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at |http: //books .google .com/I 

John L. Mothershead, Jr. 





I ).." 





Works of George Berkeley 

Vol. IV 




Works of George Berkeley 

D. D. ; Formerly Bishop of Cloyne 

Including his Posthumous Works 

With Prefaces, Annotations, Appendices, and 
An Account of his Life^ by 

Alexander Campbell Fraser 

Hon. D.C.L. Oxford 

Hon. LL.D. Gla^ow and Edinburgh ; Bmeritas Professor 
of Logic and Metaphysics in the University of Edinburgh 

In Four Volumes 

Vol. IV: Miscellaneous Works, 1707-50 

At the Clarendon Press 





f^ltnno \H ENQUHO 


Arithmetica absque Algebra aut Euclide demon- 
strata. Auctore * » * * Art. Bac. Trin. Col. Dub. 

Written in 1705. 
First published in 1707. 

Dedication to the Archbishop of Cashel 
Praefatio .... 
The Exposition 

Pars Prima . 

Pars Secunda 

Pars Tertia . 







Miscellanea M athematica : sive Cogitata nonnulla 
de Radicibus Surdis, de -^stu Aeris, de Cono -^qui- 
latero et Cylindro eidem Sphaerae circumscriptis, de 
Ludo Algebraico ; et Paraenetica quaedam ad studium 
Matheseos, praesertim Algebrae. Autore * » # * Art. 
Bac. Trin. Col. Dub 39 

Written in 1705. 
First published tn 1707. 

Dedication to Samuel Molyneux 41 

The Miscellanea 43 

Appendix 63 

Description of the Cave of Dunmore 

Written in 1706. 
First published in 1871. 




The Revelation of Life and Immortality : A Dis- 
course delivered in the Chapel of Trinity College, 
Dublin, on Sunday Evening, January ii, 1708 . . 84 

First published in 187 1. 

Passive Obedience : or, The Christian Doctrine of 
not resisting the Supreme Power, proved and vin- 
dicated, upon the Principles of the Law of Nature, in 
a Discourse delivered at the Chapel of Trinity College, 
Dublin 95 

First published in 1712. 

The Editor's Preface ....... 97 

To the Reader loi 

The Discourse 102 

Essays IN the Guardian . . . . . » . 137 
First published in 1713. 

Two Sermons preached at Leghorn in 17 14 . . 191 
First published in 1871. 

Journal in Italy in 171 7, 1718 219 

First published in 187 1. 

The Editor's Preface 221 

The Journal 225 

An Essay towards preventing the Ruin of Great 

Britain 319 

First published in 1721. 

A Proposal for the better supplying of Churches in 
our Foreign Plantations, and for converting the savage 
Americans to Christianity, by a College to be erected 
in the Summer Islands, otherwise called the Isles of 
Bermuda 341 

First published in 1725. 

The Editor's Preface 342 

The Proposal . . 346 



Verses on the Prospect of Planting Arts and Learning 

in America . 365 

Notes of Sermons preached at Newport in Rhode 

Island and in the Narragansett country, in 1729-31 . 367 

First published in 1871. 

The Editor's Preface 369 

The Notes 371 

A Sermon preached before the Incorporated Society 
for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts : at 
their Anniversary Meeting in the Parish Church of 
St. Mary-le-Bow, on Friday, February 18, 1732 . . 393 

First published in 1732. 

The Querist, containing several Queries, proposed 

to the consideration of the Public 415 

First published in Three Parts in 1735, 1736, 1737, 
and reduced to its present form in 1750. 

The Editor's Preface 417 

Advertisement by the Author 421 

The Queries 422 

A Discourse addressed to Magistrates and Men 
IN Authority. Occasioned by the enormous Licence 
and Irreligion of the Times 477 

First published in 1736. 

The Editor's Preface 479 

The Discourse 483 

Primary Visitation Charge delivered to the 

Clergy of the Diocese of Cloyne . . . 507 

First published in 1871. 

Address on Confirmation 517 

First published m]i87i. 

• • • 



A Letter to Sir John James, Bart., on the differ- 

Churches 519 

Written in 1741. 
First published in iS^o. 

Two Letters on the occasion of the Rebellion 

IN 1745 535 

First published in the ^ Dublin Journal,* in 1745. 

A Word to the Wise : or, An Exhortation to the 
Roman Catholic Clergy of Ireland. By a Member of 
the Established Church 541 

First published in 1749. 

Maxims concerning Patriotism 559 

First published in 1750. 

Appendix : The First Edition of the ' Querist ' . . 567 




BBftKELBlr: rtlASEB. IV. ^ 


The Arithmetica and the Miscellanea Mathematica were 
published at Dublin early in 1707, when Berkeley was 
entering his twenty-third year. He took his Master's 
degree in June, 1707, and on the title-page he is described 
as Bachelor of Arts. The Preface to the Arithmetica 
implies that it was held in retentis for some years before 
its appearance, and thus its preparation was contem- 
poraneous with that of the Commonplace Book. In the 
original edition, now very rare, the two tracts form a small 
volume of ninety-two pages, published anonymously ; so 
that the Essay towards a New Theory of Vision is the 
earliest work in which Berkeley's name appears on the 
title-page. These Latin tracts appear in all the editions 
of Berkeley's collected works, and the Commonplace Book, 
as well as their contents, confirm the evidence of author- 
ship. Their chief interest is biographical. They illustrate 
the juvenile mathematical enthusiasm of their author, also 
his disposition to seek for principles, and to simplify 
human knowledge, all in an independent spirit. 






First published in 1707 

B a 











' William Palliser, translated 
to the Archbishoprick of Cashel 
in 1694, was previously Bishop of 
Cloyne. He had been elected 
a Fellow of Trinity College, 
Dublin, in 1668, and was tutor to 
William Molyneux, the friend of 
Locke, father of Samuel Molyneux, 

to whom Berkeley dedicated his 
Miscellanea Maihematica. Palliser 
was afterwards Professor of Divin- 
ity in Trinity College. He died 
in 1727. Of the younger Palliser, 
to whom the Arithmetica is dedi- 
cated, I find no further record. 


Plerosque scientiarum mathematicarum procos in ipso 
earundem limine caecutientes, sentio simul et doleo. Ni- 
mirum cum ea sit, apud nos saltem, mathemata discendi 
ratio, ut primo arithmetica, deinde geometria, postremo 
algebra addiscatur, Tacqueti ' vero Arithmeticam legamus, 
eam autem nemo probe intelligat, qui algebram non prae- 
libarit ; hinc fit ut plerique mathesi operam navantes, dum 
bene multorum minoris usus theorematum demonstrationes 
studiose evolvunt, interea operationum arithmeticarum, 
quarum ea est vis et praestantia, ut non modo caeteris 
disciplinis mathematicis, verum etiam hominum cujus- 
cunque demum sortis usibus commodissime famulentur, 
principia ac rationes intactas praetereant. Quod si quis 
tandem aliquando, post emensum matheseos cursum, 
oculos in praedictum Tacqueti librum retorqueat, multa ibi 
methodo obscura, et quae intellectum non tam illuminet 
quam convincat, demonstrata; multa horrido porismatum 
et theorematum satellitio stipata inyeniet. 

Sed nee alius quisquam, quod sciam, arithmeticam 
seorsim ab algebra demonstravit, Proinde e re tyronum 
futurum ratus, si haec mea qualiacunque in lucem emit- 
terem, ea postquam, si minus omnia, pleraque certe per 
integrum fere triennium in scriniis delituerint, publici juris 
facio. Quae cum praeter ipsos operandi modos, eorundem 
etiam demonstrationes ex propriis et genuinis arithmeticae 

^ For Tacquet, an eminent mathe- noza's letter to De Vries {Epistola 

matician of the seventeenth cen- XXVI). His Arithmetics Theoria 

tury, see Essay on Vision, sect. 30, et Praxis, upon which Berkeley 

note. He is often referred to by here remarks, was published at 

contemporary writers. See Spi- Antwerp in 1665. 


principiis petitas complectantur, mirabitur fortasse quis- 
piam, quod noster hie tractatus mole vulgares arithmeti- 
corum libros, in quibus praxis tantum tradatur, baud 
exaequet. Hoc autem exinde proven it, quod cum opera- 
tionum t6 Slotl explicarem in praeceptis et exemplis, quae 
vulgus arithmeticorum ad nauseam usque prosequitur, 
contractior fui ; nee eo forsan obscurior. Quippe tametsi 
caeco ad singulos fere gressus regendos opus sit manu- 
ductore, in clara tamen demonstrationum luce versanti 
sufficit, si quis tenendum tramitem vel strictim exponat. 
Quamobrem omnes matheseos candidati ad regularum 
arithmeticae rationes ac fundamenta percipiendum animos 
adjungant, summopere velim et exoptem. 

Neque id tanti moliminis est, ut plerique fortasse imagi- 
nentur. Quas attulimus demonstrationes faciles (ni fallor) 
sunt et concisae; nee principia aliunde mutuantur, ex 
algebra nihil, nihil ex Euclide tanquam notum supponitur. 
Ubique malui obvia et familiari aliqua ratione a priori 
veritatem praxeos comprobare, quam per prolixam demon- 
strationum apagogicarum seriem ad absurdum deducere. 
Radicum quadratarum et cubicarum doctrinam ex ipsa 
involutionis arithmeticae natura eruere tentavi. Atque ea, 
meo quidem judicio, ad numerosam radicum extractionem 
illustrandum magis accommoda videtur, quam quae ex 
Elemento secundo Euclidis, aut ex analysi potestatum 
algebraicarum vulgo adferri solent. Regula vulgaris pro 
alligatione plurium rerum non nisi difficulter admodum et 
per species demonstratur : ejus igitur loco novam, quae vix 
ulla demonstratione indigeat, e proprio penu substitui. 
Regulam falsi, utpote mancam et fere inutilem, consulto 
praetermisi. Ac, si nihil aliud, novitas fortassis aliqua 

Neminem transcripsi ; nullius scrinia expilavi. Nempe 
id mihi imprimis propositum fuerat, ut numeros tractandi 
leges ex ipsis principiis, proprii exercitii et recreationis 
causa, deducerem. Quod et deinceps horis subsecivis 
prosecutus sum. Nee mihi hoc in loco, absque ingrati 
animi labe, praeterire liceat Reverendum Virum Johannem 
Hall, S.T.D, Academiae nostrae Vice-praepositum, ibidem- 
que linguae Hebraicae Professorem dignissimum\ cui 

* John Hall, elected Fellow of was afterwards Berkeley's tutor. 
Trinity College, Dublin, in 1685, He was Vice- Provost of the Col- 


viro Optimo quum me multis nominibus obstringi lubens 
agnoscam, tum non id minimum duco, quod illius hortatu 
ad suavissimum Matheseos studium incitatus fuerim. 

Monstravi porro ad quern coUimaverim scopum: quo- 
usque ipsum assecutus sim, penes aequos rerum aestima- 
tores esto judicium. Candido quippe horum examini istas 
studiorum meorum primitias libenter submitto; quicquid 
interim scioli sentiant et malevoli, parum solicitus. 

lege in 1697-1713. Berkeley at- appointed to a college living in 
tributes to him his own love for the diocese of Deny. He died 
mathematics. In 1713 Hall was in 1735. 





NovEM sunt notae numerales, viz. i, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 
quibus una cum cyfra (o) utuntur arithmetici, ut tantum 
non infinitos numerorum ordines exprimant. Omne illius 
rei artificium in eo positum est, quod notarum numeralium 
loci ratione decupla progrediantur. Series autem nume- 
rorum, ea lege quoad locorum valores procedentium, in 
membra sive periodos enunciation is causa secatur. Rem 
totam oculis conspiciendam subjecta exhibet Tabella : 

Notarum Numeralium Series, 







' The Arithmetica is a brief ex- 
position of the science, unfolded 
from its principles — in three parts. 
The First Part deduces rules for 
the Addition, Subtraction, Multi- 
plication, and Division of numbers, 
and for Squares and Cubes; the 
Second treats of Fractions, or 



broken numbers, and the rules for 
adding, subtracting, multiplying, 
dividing, and reducing them ; the 
Third is concerned with the nu- 
merical relations of proportion, 
alligation, and progression— arith- 
metical and geometrical. 
















Unitates ( 

Unesimae / 

Decimae . 



Decimae , 



Decimal . 



Decimae . 



Decimae , 



Decimae . 















qua exponitur notarum numeralium series, in terniones 
distributa : membra autem seu jperiodi millecupla, loci 
decupla ratione progrediuntur. E. g. Numerus positus in 
loco unitatum (is per subjectum punctum dignoscitur) 
denotat septem res integras quascunque, vel saltem ut 
integras spectatas; numerus ei a dextris proximus, tres 
partes decimas ejusdem integri ; qui vero locum immediate 
praecedentem occupat, indigitat quatuor decadas eorundem 


integrorum. Eadem proportione decupla locus quilibet 
sequentem superat, a praecedente superatur. 

rorro, cum infinita unitatum multiplicatione et divisione, 
notarum series infinite ultra citraque unitatum locum pro- 
ducatur, adeoque innumeri oriantur loci, ut distincti eorum 
valores exprimantur, opus est solummodo trium vocum 
continua repetitione ; modo ternio quivis sive periodiis suo 
insigniatur nomine, uti factum in Tabella. Nam, pro- 
grediendo a loco unitatum versus sinistram, prima periodus 
numerat simpliciter unitates, sive integra ; secunda, millia ; 
tertia, milliones ; quarta, biliones ; atque ita porro. Simi- 
liter, servata analogia, in periodis infra unitatem descen- 
dentibus, occurrunt primo partes simpliciter, dein mille- 
simae, millionesimae, bilionesimae, &c. atque hae quidem 
partiendae in unesimas, decimas, centesimas; illi vero 
colligendi in unitates, decades, centurias. 

Ut itaque enunciemus numerum quavis e tota serie figura 
designatum, i°, respiciendum est ad valorem notae sim- 
plicem ; 2°, ad valorem loci ; postremo, periodi. E. g. enun- 
cianda sit 9, in quinta sinistrorsum periodo. Nota sim- 
pliciter sumpta valet novem : ratione loci, novem decadas ; 
ratione demum periodi, novem decadas trilionum. Pro- 
ponatur 5, in tertia periodo: simpliciter sumpta dicit 
quinque; ratione loci, quinque unitates; ratione periodi, 
quinque unitates millionum, seu quinque milliones. In 
secunda infra unitatem periodo, detur 8: simplex notae valor 
est octo; ratione loci, octo centesimae; ratione periodi, 
octo centesimae millesimarum. 

Quod si numerus enunciandus non habeat adscripta 
vocabula valores periodorum locorumque indigitantia, is 
punctatione a loco unitatum dextrorsum sinistrorsumque 
instituta in terniones distinguatur ; deinde, cuique loco et 
periodo assignato nomine, proferatur. Sit, e. g. numerus 
propositus 73-48o«i95. Notis in periodos distinctis, pri- 
mum quaero quinam sint valores figurse ad sinistram 
primae; quae, quoniam collocatur in secundo loco tertiae 
periodi, valet septem decadas millionum : quia vero numeri 
ratione decupla progrediuntur, intellecto notae primae 
valore, caeterarum valores ordine sequuntur. Sic ergo 
enunciabimus numerum propositum; septem decades et 
tres unitates millionum, quatuor centuriae et octo decades 
millium, una centuria, novem decades et quinque unitates ; 



vel contractius, septuaginta tres milliones, quadringenta 
octaginta millia, centum nonaginta quinque. Hinc cer- 
nimus quod cyfra, licet per se nil valeat, necessario tamen 
scribatur, ut unicuique notae debitum assignemus locum. 

Facillimum erit numeros quantumvis magnos scribere 
et enunciare, modo quae dicta sunt perpendantur, quorum 
etiam scientia in sequentibus maximi erit moment! : siqui- 
dem qua ratione operationes arithmeticae in digitis per- 
ficiantur ipsa docet natura ; arte vero opus est ad easdem 
in numeris grandioribus accurate exercendas, quae sane 
omnis in eo versatur, ut quod opus simul et uno quasi ictu 
peragj non sin it humanae mentis angustia, id in plures 
partiamur opellas, sigillatim inquirentes digitorum aggre- 
gata, differentias, producta, &c. dein haec ita componamus 
ut exhibeant summam, residuum, aut productum, &c..totale; 
cujus rei ratio omnis et artificium petitur ex simplici 
locorum progressione, et in ea ultimo fundatur. 

N.B. Non me latet arithmeticos nonnullos numerorum 
seriem aliter ac a nobis factum est partiri ; sc. in senarios 
(composita denominatione) loco ternionum. Cum vero 
methodum quam tradimus sequantur etiam alii ', visum est 
et nobis eam (utpote simpliciorem) retinere. 



Additione quaeritur duorum pluriumve numerorum 
aggregatum ; quod ut obtineatur, numeri aggregandi sub 
invicem scribantur ea lege, ut unitates unitatibus, decades 
decadibus, partes decimae decimis, &c. respondeant. Quam- 
obrem, ubi adnexae fuerint partes decimales, oportet 

* [v. g. CI. Wallisius in Mathes, 
Umvers.f et le Pdre Lamy dans ses 
Elemens des Mathemaiiques,'] — Au- 

WalHs's Mathesis Universalis 
is the first article in his Opera 
Mathemaiica (Oxford, 1695). See 
ch. V, 'Numerorum Procrea- 
tio/ for the opinion to which 
Berkeley refers. Bernard Lamy 

(or Lami), priest of the Oratory, a 
Cartesian, was author of works in 
mathematics and theology. One of 
these, Traiie qui comprend VAriih- 
meiique, VAlgebre^ l^ Analyse, &c., 
was published at Paris in 1680. 
A second edition appeared in 
1691, under the title Ele'mens des 



unitatis locum adjecto commate insignire. Deinde, sumpto 
a dextris initio, notae in primo loco occurrentes una 
addantur ; decades autem siquae proveniant, adjectis punc- 
tulis notatae sequenti loco annumerandae sunt, cujus itidem 
numeris (reservatis interim decadibus, quae ad locum 
sequentem pertinent) in unam summam aggregati infra 
scribantur. Atque ita porro. 

E. g. In primo, infra-scriptorum exemplo, 9 et 5 faciunt 
14 ; decadem punctatam servo, cum 4 progredior ; 4 et 8 
sunt 12, punctata igitur decade, 2 subscribo ; ad secundum 
locum accedens, reperio 6, quibus addo 2, scil. decadas 
in primo punctatas, 8 et 2 faciunt decadem, quam 
notatam servans, quae sola superest i subscribo. Et sic 


8.2 2.5. 




£ 5. d, 
7 8 9 
3 12. 5 


I 4 6 I 2 


II 8 4 

Quod si proponantur colligendae res diversarum specierum, 
simili prorsus methodo operandum, dummodo habeatur 
ratio proportionis, juxta quam progrediuntur diversa rerum 
genera. E.g. Quoniam Lib. SoL et Den, non ratione 
decupla ut numeri progrediuntur ; adeoque non 10 denarii 
sed 12 constituant solidum ; non 10 solidi sed 20, libram. 
Propterea in hisce speciebus addendis, loco decadis, 
numerus quilibet in denariis, duodenarius, in solidis, vice- 
narius, sequenti loco adscribendus est. 

CAP. Ill 


SuBDUCTioNE quaeritur duorum numerorum differentia, 
sive quodnam superfuerit residuum sublato uno ex altero ; 
cujus obtinendi causa, numeri minoris nota quaelibet notae 



majoris ejusdem loci subscribatur ; deinde subducendi 
prima dextrorsum nota ex nota suprascripta auferatur, 
residuumque infra notetur; atque ita porro, usque dum 
perficiatur subductio totius. 

Si vero accidat numerum aliquem minorem esse quam 
ut ex eo nota subscripta auferri possit, is decade augeatur, 
mutuata scil. unitate a loco sequente. 

Detur 1 189 subtrahendus ex 32034. Numeris ut in 
exemplo subjecto scriptis, aggredior subductionem notae 
primae 9 ex supraposita 4 ; verum cum 4 ne semel quidem 
contineat 9, adjecta decade, fiat 14; ex 14 subductis 9, 
restant 5. Dein versus sinistram pergens, reperio 8, a 2 
(loco 3, habita nimirum ratione mutuatae decadis) sub- 
ducenda, quod quoniam fieri nequit, aufero 8 a 12, et 
restant 4. Proxima subducendi nota est i, quae quia 
a nihilo, sive o, non potest subtrahi, loco cyfrae o, substituo 
9, (9 inquam, quoniam, mutuata decas unitate numero 
praecedenti jam ante adjecta truncatur) ablata demum i 
ab I, restat nihil. Porro peracta subductione restant 3, 
quiae itidem subscribo. 

Haud dissimili ratione subductio specierum diversarum 
perficitur: modo advertamus non semper decadem, sed 
numerum qui dicit quotuplus locus quilibet sit praecedentis, 
in supplementum defectus notae alicujus mutuandum esse. 


1 189 


£ 5. rf. 



2 I 10 

N.B. Ex dictis liquet arithmeticae (quam hactenus tra- 
didimus) artificium consistere in perficiendo per partes id 
quod una vice fieri nequeat; rationem vero in additione, 
reservandi, in subductione, mutuandi decadas, a decupla 
locorum progressione omnino petendam esse. 





MuLTiPLicATioNE toties ponitur multiplicandus quoties 
jubet multiplicans ; seu quaeritur numerus qui eandem 
habeat rationem ad multiplicandum, quam multiplicans ad 
unitatem. Numerus autem iste appellatur productum sive 
rectangulum; cujus latera seu factores dicuntur uterque 
tum multiplicandus, tum numerus per quem multiplicatur. 

Ut productum duorum numerorum inveniamus, scripto 
numero multiplicante sub multiplicando, hie multiplicetur 
per quamlibet notam illius, incipiendo a dextris ; cuj usque 
autem producti nota prima directe subscribatur notae multi- 
plicanti, reliquae versus laevam ordine sequantur. 

Peracta multiplicatione, producta particularia in unam 
coUigantur summam, ut habeatur productum totale, in quo 
tot loci partibus sunt assignandi, quot sunt in utroque 

Proponatur 30,94 ducendus in (sive multiplicandus per) 
26,5. Quinquies 4 dant 20, cujus primam figuram o sub- 
scribo notae multiplicanti (5), reliquam 2 servo ; porro 5 in 
9 dant 45 ; 5 cum 2 servatis faciunt 7, quae subscribo, 4 
sequenti loco ponenda servans ; et sic deinceps. 








21 1584 


Prod. tot. 





Quoniam numeri cujusque duplex est valor, ut multipli- 
catio recte instituatur oportet utriusque rationem haberi; 


adeo ut nota quaevis multiplicetur juxta valorem cum 
simplicem turn localem figurae multiplicantis. Hinc nota 
prima cujusque particularis product! scribitur sub nota 
multiplicante. E. g. in secundi exempli multiplicatore, 
nota 2 valet duas (non unitates sed) decadas; ergo in 6 
(primam multiplicandi notam) ducta producet duodecim 
(non quidem unitates, verum) decadas. Proinde primam 
producti notam in loco decadum h. e. directe sub nota 
multiplicante 2, poni oportet. 

Ob eandem rationem, ubi in factoribus occurrunt partes, 
numerus ex prima multiplicandi nota in primam multipli- 
cantis ducta genitus, tot locis detrudendus est infra notam 
multiplicatam, quot multiplicans dextrorsum ab unitate 
distat; adeoque tot loci in producto totali partibus sepo- 
nendi sunt, quot fuerant in utroque factore. 

N. B. Si factori utrique aut alterutri a dextris accedant 
cyfrae non interruptae, multiplicatione in reliquis notis 
instituta omittantur istae mox producto totali adjiciendae : 
quippe cum loci proportione decupla progrediantur liquet 
numerum decuplum, centuplum, millecuplum, &c. suiipsius 
evadere, si modo uno, duobus aut tribus locis promo- 



Divisio opponitur multiplicationi ; nempe productum 
quod haec conficit, ilia sibi dissolvendum sive dividendum 
proponit. Numerus in divisione inventus, dicitur Quotiens : 
siquidem dicit quoties dividendus continet divisorem vel 
(quod idem est) rationem dividendi ad divisorem ; seu 
denique, partem dividendi a divisore denominatam. 

In divisione, scriptis dividendo et divisore, sicut in 
exemplorum subjectorum primo, captoque initio a sinistris, 
pars dividendi divisori aequalis, vel eum proxime superans 
(intelligo valorem tantum simplicem) interposito puncto 
seponatur. Quaerendum dein quoties divisor in membro 
isto contineatur, numerusque proveniens erit prima quo- 
tientis nota; porro divisor ducatur in notam inventam, 
productoque a membro dividendo ablato, residuum infra 


notetur, cui adscripta sequente dividendi nota, confit novum 
membrum dividendum, unde eruatur nota secunda quo- 
tientis, mox in divisorem ducenda, ut producto ex membro 
proxime diviso ablato, residuum una cum sequente divi- 
dendi nota, praebeat novum membrum ; atque ita porro, 
uscjue dum absoluta fuerit operatio. Subductis demum 
locis decimalibus divisoris ab iis qui sunt in dividendo, 
residuum indicabit quot loci partibus assignandi sunt in 
quotiente ; quod si nequeat fieri subductio, adjiciantur 
dividendo tot cyfrae decimales quot opus est. 

Peracta divisione, si quid superfuerit, adjectis cyfris 
decimalibus continuari poterit divisio, donee vel nihil 
restet, vel id tam exiguum sit, ut tuto negligi possit ; aut 
etiam quotienti apponantur notae residuae subscripto iisdem 

Si uterque, dividendus nempe et divisor, desinat in 
cyfras, hae aequali numero utrinque rescindantur ; si vero 
divisor solus cyfris terminetur, eae omnes inter operandum 
negligantur, totidemque postremae dividendi notae abscissae, 
sub finem operationis restituantur, scripto infra lineolam 

Proponatur 45832, dividendus per 67. Quoniam divisor 
major est quam 45, adjecta nota sequente fiat 458, mem- 
brum primo dividendum ; hoc interposito puncto a reliquis 
dividendi notis secerno. 6 in 45 continetur septies, et 
supdrest 3 ; veruntamen quoniam 7 non itidem septies in 
28 reperitur, ideo minuendus est quotiens. Sumatur 6; 
6 in 45 invenitur sexies, atque insuper 9, quin et 98 
continet 7 sexies, est igitur 6 nota prima quotientis. Haec 
in divisorem ducta procreat subducendum 402, quo sublato 
a 458, restant 56 ; his adscribo 3, proximam dividendi 
notam, unde confit novum membrum, nimirum 563, quod 
sicuti prius dividens, invenio 8 pro nota secunda quotientis : 
8 in 67 dat 536, hunc subduco a membro 563, residuoque 
27 adjiciens reliquam dividendi notam, viz. 2, habeo 272 
pro novo dividendo, quod divisum dat 4, qua primo in 
quotiente scripta, dein in divisorem ducta, productoque 
ex 272 ablato, restant 4 quotienti, scripto infra lineolam 
divisore, adjicienda. 

Expeditior est operatio, ubi subductio cujusque notae 
multiplicationem immediate sequitur ; ipsa autem multipli- 
catio a sinistra dextrorsum instituitur. E, g. Sit 12199980 



dividendus per 156 {vide exempl. 3) sub 1219 primo divi- 
dend! membro scripto divisore, constat hunc in illo septies 
contineri ; quamobrem 7 scribo in quotiente. Septies i est 
7, quibus subductis ex 12, deleo turn notam multiplicatam 
I, turn 12 partem membri unde auferebatur productum, 
residuum 5 supra notans ; dein accedo ad proximam divi- 
soris notam 5 ; 7 in 5 dat 35 ; 35 ex 51 ablatis, restant 16, 
quae supra scribo, deletis 51 et 5. Deinde autem 7 in 6 
duco, productoque 42 ex 69 subtracto, supersunt 27, quae 
proinde noto, deletis interim tum 69 tum 6, ultima divi- 
dend! figura. Porro divisorem jam integre deletum, denuo 
versus dextram uno loco promotum scribo, perque ilium 
membrum suprascriptum (quod quidem fit ex residuo 
membri proxime divisi sequehte nota aucto) quemadmodum 
praecedens divido. Eodem modo divisor usque promo- 
veatur quoad dividendum totum percurrerit \ 

Jam vero praeceptorum ratio dabitur; et primum quidem 
liquet, cur quotientem per partes investigemus. 

2. Quaeri potest, cur v. g. in exemplo supra allato 
habeatur 6 pro quotiente membri primi per divisorem 
divisi, nam 67 in 458 centuriis (pro centuriis nimirum 
habendae sunt cum duobus locis sinistrorsum ab unitate 
distent) non sexies, sed sexcenties continetur ? Respondeo, 
revera non simpliciter 6, sed 600 scribi in quotiente ; duae 
enim notae postmodum inventae istam sequuntur, atque ita 

* This method of performing 
Division the old Italians rejoiced 


in, under the name o{ galea, from its 
shape, dear to a native of the Lagune. 



quidem quotient! debitus semper conservatur valor ; nam 
unicuique notae tot loci in quotiente, quot membro unde 
eruebatur in dividendo postponuntur. 

3. Quandoquidem nota quaelibet quotientis indicat 
quoties id, ex quo eruebatur, dividendi membrum divi- 
sorem contineat; aequum est ut ex divisore, in notam 
proxime inventam ducto, confletur subducendum : tunc 
nempe aufertur divisor toties ad amussim quoties in divi- 
dendo continetur, nisi forsan aequo major aut minor sit 
numerus ultimo in quotiente scriptus. De illo quidem 
errore constabit, si productum tam magnum fuerit, ut sub- 
duci nequeat ; de hoc, si e contra productum oriatur tam 
exiguum, ut peracta subductione residuum divisore majus 
sit vel ei aequale. 

4. Ratio cur tot loci partibus seponantur in quotiente, 
quot cum iis qui sunt in divisore aequentur locis .decima- 
libus dividendi, ex eo cernitur, quod numerus dividendus 
sit productum, cujus factores sunt divisor et quotus, adeoque 
ille tot habeat locos decimales quot hi ambo, id quod 
demonstravimus de multiplicatione agentes. 

5. Patet cyfras decimales ad calcem dividendi adjectas 
ipsius valorem non immutare. Nam integros quod attinet, 
ii dummodo eodem intervallo supra unitates ascendant, 
eundem sortiuntur valorem ; decimales vero non nisi prae- 
positis cyfris in inferiorem gradum deprimuntur. 

6. Quoniam quotiens exponit seu denominat rationem 
dividendi ad divisorem, patet proportione ilia sive ratione 
existente eadem, eundem fore quotientem; sed abjectis 
cyfris communibus, ratio seu numerorum ad invicem 
habitudo minime mutatur. Sic v. g. 200 est ad 100, vel 
(quod idem est) 200 toties continet 100, quoties 2 continet i, 
quod sane per se manifestum est. 



Productum ex numero in seipsum ducto, dicitur numerus 
quadratus, Numerus autem ex cujus multiplicatione oritur 
quadratus, nuncupatur latus sive radix quadrata; et ope- 
ratio qua numeri propositi radicem investigamus, dicitur 


extractio radicis quadratce, cujus intelligendae causa juvabit 
genesin ipsius quadrati, partesque ex quibus componitur, 
earumque ordinem situmque contemplari. Veruntamen 
quoniam in inquirenda rerum cognitione consultius est a 
simplicissimis et facillimis ordiri, a contemplatione geneseos 
quadrati, ex radice binomia oriundi, initium capiamus. 

Attentius itaque intuendum est, quid fiat ubi numerus 
duabus notis constans in seipsum ducatur. Et primo 
quidem manifestum est, primam a dextra radicis notam in 
notam supra positam, seipsam nempe, duci ; unde oritur 
quadratum minoris membri. Deinde vero, eadem nota 
in sequentem multiplicandi, i.e. alteram radicis notam 
ducta, provenire rectangulum ab utroque radicis membro 
conflatum constat. Porro peracta multiplicatione totius 
multiplicandi per primam radicis notam, ad secundam 
accedimus, qua in primam multiplicandi notam ducta, 
oritur jam denuo rectangulum duarum radicis binomiae 
notarum; deinde secunda multiplicandi nota, i.e. eadem 
per eandem, multiplicata, dat secundi membri radicis 
binomise quadratum. 

Hinc ergo colligimus, quadratum quod vis a radice 
binomia procreatum constare primo ex quadrato membri 
minoris; secundo duplici rectangulo membrorum; tertio 
quadrato membri majoris. 

Proponatur radix binomia, v. g. 23 quadranda, juxta ea 
quae cap. 4. traduntur; primo duco 3 in 3, unde 
producitur 9, quadratum membri minoris. Secundo 23 
duco 3 in 2, alteram radicis notam ; prodit 6, rect- 23 

angulum utriusque notae. Tertio, ex 2 in 3 ducto 

oritur jam secunda vice rectangulum membrorum. 69 
Quarto, 2 in 2 gignit 4, quadratum membri ma- 46 

Progrediamur ad genesin quadrati a radice trimembri. 
Atque hie, primo quidem, prima radicis nota in integram 
radicem ducta procreat, primo, primi membri quadratum ; 
secundo, rectangulum membrorum primi ac secundi ; tertio, 
rectangulum membrorum primi ac tertii. Secundo, secunda 
radicis nota multiplicans radicem dat, primo, rectangulum 
membrorum primi ac secundi ; secundo, quadratum membri 
secundi ; tertio, rectangulum membrorum secundi ac tertii. 
Tertio, ex tertia radicis nota in radicem ducta oritur, 
primo, rectangulum membrorum secundi ac tertii; secundo, 



rectangulum membrorum secundi ac tertii ; tertio, quad- 
ratum tertii membri radicis. 

Hinc porro colligimus quadratum quodvis a radice 
trinomia genitum complecti, primo, quadratum notae radicis 
primae ; secundo, duplex rectangulum notae primae in duas 
reliquas ductae; tertio, quadratum duarum reliquarum, 
i. e. bina singularum quadrata et earundem duplex rectan- 
gulum, quae quidem constituere quadratum duarum notarum 
jam ante ostendimus. 

Simili methodo ostendi potest quadratum 4, 5, quotlibet 
notarum continere, primo quadratum notae infimae; secundo, 
duplex rectangulum ex infima in sequentes omnes ducta 
genitum ; tertio, quadratum notarum omnium sequentium ; 
quod ipsum (uti ex praemissis manifestum est) continet 
quadratum notae a dextris secundae, duplex rectangulum 
ejusdem in omnes sequentes ductae, quadratum notarum 
omnium sequentium ; quod pariter continet quadratum 
notae tertiae, bina rectangula illius et sequentium harumque 
quadratum, atque ita porro, usque quoad ventum sit ad 
quadratum altissimae radicis notae. 

Inventis tandem partibus ex quibus componitur quad- 
ratum, restat ut circa earum ordinem situmque dispiciamus. 
Si itaque quadratum incipiendo a dextris in biniones par- 
tiamur, ex genesi quam supra tradidimus constabit, primum 
(a sinistris) membrum occupari a quadrato notae primae 
sive altissimae, simul ac ab ea duplicis rectanguli ex notis 
prima et secunda in invicem ductis conflati portione, quae 
extra primum sequentis binionis locum redundat : secundi 
locum primum continere dictum duplex rect- 
321 angulum, atque insuper quicquid quadrati notae 
321 secundae, excurrat; secundum capere quad- 

ratum notae secundae, et quod redundat duplicis 

321 rectanguli duarum priorum notarum in tertiam 
642 ductarum (quoad notam infimam) ad locum 

963 primum tertii binionis pertinentis, et sic de- 

inceps ; v. g. in exemplo apposito, membrum 

I0-30-4I primum 10 continet 9 quadratum notae primae 
3, simul ac i qua 12 (duplex rectangulum 
notae 3 in sequentem 2 ductae) locum primum secundi 
membri transcendit. Primus locus secundi binionis capit 2 
(duplicis rectanguli notarum 3 et 2 reliquum), atque etiam 
id quod extra locum proxime sequentem redundat, &c. 


Perspecta jam compositione quadrati, ad ejusdem 
analysin accedamus. Proponatur itaque numerus quivis 
(e. g. 103041), unde elicienda sit radix quadrata. Hunc 
incipiens a dextris, in biniones (si par sit locorum numerus, 
alioqui membrum ultimum ex unica constabit nota) dis- 
tingue. Quaere dein quadratum maximum in (10) membro 
versus laevam primo contentum, cujus radix (3) est nota 
prima radicis indagandae, ipsum autem quadratum (9) a 
membro (10) subduco. Ex residuo (i) adjecta 
(3) nota prima sequentis membri confit divi- 103041(321 
dendus (13), quem divido per notam inven- 9 

tam duplicatam (i.e. 6), quotiens (2) erit 

nota radicalis secunda; qua primo in divi- 6)130 
sorem, deinde in seipsam ducta, productis- 124 
que in unam summam collectis, ita tamen 

A 9 

ut posterius uno loco dextrorsum promo- 64)641 
veatur (e.g.'* 4) habeo numerum subdu- 

cendum (124), hunc aufero ex dividendo 641 

(13) aucto (o) nota reliqua secundi membri : 

residuo (6) adjicio'(4) notam primam tertii 000 

binionis, ut fiat novus dividendus (64), qui 
divisus per (64) duplum radicis hactenus inventae dat (i) 
notam tertiam radicis indagandae ; hac tum in divisorem 
tum in seipsam ducta, factisque ut supra simul aggregatis, 
summam (641) subduco a dividendo (64) aucto accessione 
notae alterius membri tertii: eadem plane methodo per- 
gendum quantumvis producatur operatic. 

Si quid post ultimam subductionem superfuerit, id tibi 
indicio sit, numerum propositum non fuisse quadratum; 
verumtamen adjectis resolvendo cyfris decimalibus operatic 
extendi poterit quousque lubet. 

Numerus locorum decimalium, si qui fuerint, in resol- 
vendo bipartitus indicabit, quot ponendi sunt in radice. 
Cujus ratio cernitur ex cap. 4. 

Ratio operandi abunde patet ex praemissis. Nam 
e. g. adhibui (6) duplum notae inventae pro divisore, prop- 
terea quod ex tradita quadrati compositione, duplex rec- 
tangulum notae illius (3) in sequentem (2) ductae dividendum 
complecti rescissem, eoque adeo diviso per duplum factoris 
unius (3) confactorem ejus (2) h. e. notam proximam radicis 
innotescere. Similiter, subducendum conflavi ex duplici 
rectangulo quotientis et divisoris, simul ac quotientis quad- 


rato in unum, ea qua dictum est ratione, collectis; quia 
bina ilia rectangula et quadratum eo ordine in residue et 
membro sequente, ex quibus fiebat subductio, contineri 
deprehenderam, atque ita quidem potestatis resolutio ex 
ipsius compositione facili admodum negotio deducitur. 



Radix in quadratum ducta procreat cubum. Ut ster- 
namus viam ad analysin cubi, a compositione potestatis 
(quemadmodum in capite praecedenti factum) sumendum 
est initium. In productione igitur cubi a radice binomia 
primum radicis membrum offendit, primo, suiipsius quad- 
ratum, unde cubus notae primae ; secundo, duplex rectan- 
gulum membrorum, unde duplex solidum quadrati notae 
primae in alteram ducti ; tertio, quadratum membri alterius, 
unde solidum ex nota prima et quadrato secundae genitum. 
Similiter, facta multiplicatione per membrum secundum, 
oritur primo, solidum notse secundse et quadrati primae ; 
secundo, duplex solidum notae primae et quadrati secundae ; 
tertio, cubus membri secundi. 

Continet ergo cubus a radice binomia procreatus singu- 
lorum membrorum cubos et 6 solida, nimirum 3 facta ex 
quadrato membri utriusvis in alterum ducto. 

Hinc ratiocinio ad analogiam capitis praecedentis pro- 
tracto, constabit, si (ut quadratum in biniones, ita) cubus a 
quantavis radice genitus, in terniones distribuatur, ternio- 
nem seu membrum a sinistris primum continere cubum 
notae sinistrorsum primae, simul ac redundantiam (si quae 
sit) 3 solidorum quadrati ejusdem in secundam ducti; 
locum primum secundi capere dicta solida et redundantiam 
3 solidorum quadrati notae secundae in primam, locum 
secundum eadem 3 solida et redundantiam cubi notae se- 
cundae; tertium occupari a dicto cubo, simul ac redun- 
dantia 3 solidorum, ex quadrato notarum praecedentium 
in tertiam ducto genitorum : locum primum tertii membri 
solida ultimo memorata obtinere, et sic deinceps. Hinc 
facile derivabimus methodum eliciendae radicis cubicae, 
quae est ut sequitur. 


Incipiendo a dextris, resolvendum (80621568) in terniones 
(praeter membrum postremum quod minus esse potest) 
punctis interpositis distribuo. Dein cubum maximum (64) 
in (80) primo versus sinistram membro contentum subduco, 
scriptaque illius radice (4) in notam primam radicis quae- 
sitae, residuo (16) adscribo (6) notam proximam resolvendi, 
unde confit dividendum (166) quod divido per (48) triplum 
quadrati notae inventae : quotiens (3) est nota secunda 
radicis: banc duco, primo in divisorem; secundo, ipsius 
quadratum in triplum notae primae; postremo, ipsam in 
seipsam bis. Producta ea lege aggregata, ut secundum 
a primo, tertium a secundo, uno loco dextrorsum 

(144 , 
ponatur, < 108 > subduco a dividendo aucto accessione 


I 27 

duarum notarum reliquarum membri secundi. Ad eundem 
modum, utut prolixa sit operatio, 
numerum dividendum semper praestat 8062 1-568(432 

residuum, adjuncta prima sequentis 64 

membri nota : divisorem vero, triplum 

quadrati notarum radicis hactenus in- 48)166-21 
ventarum : et subducendum, nota 15507 

ultimo reperta in divisorem ducta, 5547)1114568 
ejusdem quadratum in triplum notarum 1 1 14568 

praecedentium : postremo illius cubus, 

ea qua diximus ratione aggregati, con- 0000000 


Si numerus resolvendus non sit cubus, quod superest, 
adjectis locis decimalibus, in infinitum exhauriri potest. 

Radici assignanda est pars tertia locorum decimalium 

N. B. Operationes syntheticae examinari possunt per 
analyticas, et vicissim analyticae per syntheticas : adeoque 
si numero alterutro ex summa duorum subducto, restet 
alter, recte peracta est additio ; et vice versa, extra dubium 
ponitur subductio, quoties aggregatum subducti et residui 
aequatur numero majori dato. Similiter, si quotiens in 
divisorem, aut radix in seipsam ducta procreet dividendum, 
aut resolvendum, id tibi indicio sit, in divisionem aut reso- 
lutionem nullum repsisse vitium. 





ScRiPTo divisore infra dividendum, ductaque linea inter- 
media, divisionem utcunque designari, jam ante ' monuimus. 
Hujusmodi autem quotientes dicuntur numeri fracti seu 
fractiones, propterea quod numerus superior, qui dicitur 
etiam numerator, dividitur seu frangitur in partes ab infe- 
riore denominatas, qui proinde dicitur denominator: e.g. 
in hac fractione f 2 est dividendus seu numerator, 4 divisor 
seu denominator; ipsa autem fractio indicat quotientem 
qui oritur ex divisis 2 per 4, h. e. quadrantem duarum 
rerumFquarumvis, vel duos quadrantes unius ; nempe idem 

N.B. Patet numeros qui partes decimales denotant, qui- 
que vulgo fractiones decimales audiunt, subscripto nomina- 
tore, per modum fractionum vulgarium exprimi posse. 
E.g., 25 valent 3^; ,004 valent yoVu &c. id quod faciamus 
oportet, aut saltem factum intelligamus, quotiescunque eae 
in fractiones vulgares aut vicissim hae in illas reducendae 
sint, aut aliam quamvis operationem, utrosque fractos, 
vulgares et decimales ex aequo respicientem, fieri con- 

^ [Cap. V. p. I.] — Author. 





1. Si fractiones, quarum summa aut differentia quaeritur, 
eundem habent nominatorem, sumatur summa aut diffe- 
rentia numeratorum, cui subscriptus communis nominator 
quaesitum dabit. 

2. Si non sunt ejusdem nominis, ad idem reducantur. 
Nominatores dati in se invicem ducti dabunt novum 
nominatorem ; cujusque autem fractionis numerator, in 
nominatores reliquarum ductus, dabit numeratorem novae 
fractionis datae aequalis. Dein cum novis fractionibus 
operandum ut supra. 

3. Si integer fractioni addendus sit, aut ab ea sub- 
ducendus, veT vice versa, is ad fractionem datae cognominem 
reducatur; nempe illi in nominatorem datum ducto idem 
nominator subscribendus est. 


i ad f sum. f 


^ a f resid. \ 


1 ad f , i. e. r\ ad j^ sum. J| 


f a f , i. e. x\ ex xV resid. ^^ 


3 ad 1, i. e. V ad | sum. V 


1 ex. 3 i. e. V resid. V 


Primo, Dicendum est, cur fractiones, antequam operemur, 
ad idem nomen reducamus : atque id quidem propterea fit, 
quod numeri res heterogeneas numerantes in unum colligi, 
aut ab invicem subduci nequeant. E.g. Si velim addere 
tres denarios duobus solidis, summa non erit 5 sol. aut 
5 den. necjue enim ilia prius haberi potest quam res nume- 
ratas ad idem genus reducam, adhibendo loco duorum 
solidorum 24 denarios, quib"s si addam 3 den. oritur 
aggregatum 27 den. pari ratione 2 partes tertias et 3 quartas 
una colligens, non scribo 5 partes, tertias aut quartas ; sed 
earum loco usurpo 8 duodecimas et 9 duodecimas, quarum 
summa est 17 duodecimae. 

Secundo, Ostendam quod fractiones post reductionem 
idem valeant ac prius, e.g. quod f aequentur y^: siquidem 
uterque nominator et numerator per eundem numerum 
(v.g. 4) multiplicantur ; omnis autem fractio exprimit 
rationem numeratoris, seu dividendi, ad nominatorem, seu 
divisorem; proinde dummodo ratio ilia eadem manet, 
fractio eundem retinet valorem ; sed ducto utroque rationis 
termino in unum eundemque numerum, certum est rationem 
non mutari: e.g. si dimidium rei cujusvis sit dimidii 
alterius rei duplum, erit et totum illud totius hujus duplum ; 
quod quidem tam liquido patet, ut demonstratione non 

Tertio, Integer ad fractionem reductus non mutat valo- 
rem : nam si 2 numerorum rectangulum per unum eorun- 
dem dividatur, quotiens erit alter, sed in reductione integri 
ad fractum is in nominatorem datum ducitur, et per eundem 
dividitur : igitur quotiens, h. e. fractio, valet integrum primo 

N.B. Utile nonnunquam erit, fractionem ad datum 
nomen reducere ; e.g. |^ ad alteram, cujus nominator sit 9 : 
quod quidem fit per regulam trium (de qua vide par. 3. 
cap. I.) inveniendo numerum, ad quem nominator datus 
ita se habeat ac fractionis datae nominator ad ejusdem 
numeratorem ; is erit numerator fracti cujus datum est 
nomen, valor autem idem qui prioris; quippe inter frac- 
tionis terminos eadem est utrobique ratio. 


CAP. Ill 


1. Si ducenda sit fractio in fractionem, datarum frac- 
tionum numeratores in se invicem ducti, dabunt numera- 
torem producti; dati item nominatores procreabunt ejusdem 

2. Si multiplicanda sit fractio per integrum, ducatur 
integer datus in numeratorem fractionis, eodem manente 

3. Si in factore alterutro, vel utroque occurrant integri, 
aut fractiones heterogeneae, ei claritatis causa una colligi 


Multiplic. f per | pro. 12" t per 2 prod. ^ 

Multiplic. 1 2 & f per i & 1 i>. ^ per ^ 

Manifestum est quotientem eadem proportione augeri, 
qua dividendum : E.g. si 2 continetur ter in 6, continebitur 
bis ter in bis 6 ; liquet insuper eundem eadem proportione 
minui, qua crescit divisor. E.g. si numerus 3 continetur 
quater in 12, continebitur bis 3 duntaxat bis in 12 : igitur 
cum ut multiplicem f per |, augenda sit fractio | ratione 
quintupla, quoniam per 5, et minuenda ratione octupla, 
quoniam non simpliciter per 5, sed solummodo ejus partem 
octavam multiplicatur ; duco dividendum 2 in 5, et divi- 
sorem 3 in 8. 

2. Quod ad regulam secundam, constat bis 4 res quasvis 
aequari 8 rebus ejusdem denominationis, quaecunque de- 
mum sit ilia. 





1. Fractio per integrum dividitur, ducendo integrum 
datum in nominatorem fractionis datae. 

2. Si fractio per fractionem dividenda sit, numerator 
divisoris ductus in nominatorem dividendi dabit nomina- 
torem quotientis ; et ejusdem nominator ductus in numera- 
torem dividendi dabit numeratorem quotientis. 

3. Quotiescunque admiscentur integri aut fractiones 
diversi nominis, facilius operabere si membra utriusque, 
tum dividendi tum divisoris, in binas summas colligantur. 


Div. I f per 2, quot. f | 

Div. I per |, quot. f g 

Div. 2j + f per 3f, i.e. V per V 

1°. Quantum ad primam regulam, ex capite praecedenti 
constat, fractionem eadem proportione minui seu dividi, 
qua multiplicatur nominator. 

2°. Postquam dividens fractionem unam per aliam, e.g. 
4 per I, duxi nominatorem 9 in 2, fractio y*^ dicit tantum 
quoties 2 continetur in dividendo ; illius vero quintuplum 
indicabit quoties pars quinta numeri 2 ibidem continetur ; 
quapropter quotientem primum y\ duco in 5, inde fit |f . 

N.B. Si fractiones datae sunt homogeneae, brevius est 
et concinnius dividere numeratorem dividendi per nume- 
ratorem divisoris, quotiescunque ilium hie metitur. Sic 
divisis ^ per f quotiens erit 2, quaecunque enim nume- 
rantur 6 bis continent 3. 


2. Si extrahenda sit radix e fractione data, radix nomina- 
toris radici numeratoris subscripta constituet fractionem 
quae erit radix quaesita. E.g. f est radix quadrata frac- 
tionis ^, et cubica fractionis ^"y; nam ex iis quae de 

multiplicatione diximus patet, f in f producere i, et f in ^ 


dare ^ 



1. QuoNiAM fractionum quae ex minimis terminis con- 
stant valor clarius agnoscitur, utile est fractionis terminos, 
quoties id fieri potest, per communem aliquam mensuram 
dividere. Quanto autem major fuerit communis iste divisor, 
tanto minores erunt quotientes seu termini fractionis datae 
aequalis. Oportet itaque, datis duobus numeris, intelligere 
methodum inveniendi maximam eorum communem men- 
suram, i.e. divisorem maximum qui datos dividat absque 
residuo. Qui est ut sequitur : 

2. Divide majorem e datis per minorem, et divisorem 
per divisionis residuum, et si quod denuo supersit residuum, 
per illud residuum prius, i. e. ultimum divisorem, dividas ; 
atque ita porro, donee veneris ad divisorem qui dividendum 
suum exhauriat sive metiatur; is est maxima datorum 
communis mensura. 

E.g. Proponantur 9 et 15. Divido 15 per 9, restant 6. 
Divido 9 per 6, restant 3 : porro divisis 6 per 3, restat nihil. 
Ergo 3 est maxima communis mensura datorum nume- 
rorum 9 et 15 : quod sic ostendo. 

(a) 3 metitur 6, at (b) 6 metitur 9 demptis 3; igitur 3 
metitur 9 demptis 3 ; sed 3 metitur seipsum, metitur ergo 
integrum 9 : atqui (c) 9 metitur 15 demptis 6, ergo 3 metitur 
15 demptis 6, metitur vero 6; igitur metitur integrum 
numerum 15. Hinc patet 3 esse propositorum 9 et 15 
communem mensuram. Superest ut ostendam eandem 
esse maximam. Si negas, esto alia quaepiam major, puta 
5; jam quoniam {d) 5 metitur 9, (e) 9 vero metitur 15 
demptis 6, liquet 5 metiri 15 demptis 6; sed et integrum 

(a) per const, (b) per const, (c) per const, {(f) per hyp. (e) per const 


15 (ex hypothesi) metitur, igitur metitur 6 ; 6 autem metitur 
9 demptis 3, ergo 5 metitur 9 demptis 3. Quoniam igitur 
5 metitur et integrum 9, et 9 demptis 3, metietur ipsum 3, 
h.e. (/) numerum minorem; quod est absurdum. 

Inventa maxima communi mensura, patet fractionem ^j 
deprimi posse ad banc |, quam priori aequalem esse sic 
ostendo. Omnis fractio denotat quotientem numeratoris 
divisi per nominatorem ; in divisione autem, quotiens dicit 
rationem dividendi ad divisorem, dum igitur ratio eadem 
manet, erit et quotiens seu fractio eadem. Porro rationem 
non mutari, terminis ejus pariter divisis, liquido constat ; 
e.g. si res quaelibet sit alterius rei dupla, vel tripla, erit et 
dimidium illius, dimidii bujus, duplum vel triplum, &c. 

[' Qui fractiones per integros dividere et multiplicare 
novit, is in fractionibus (ut vocant) fractionum ad simplices 
reducendis nuUam difficultatem experietur. Nam v.g. 
baec fractio fractionis } de f ecquid aliud est quam pars 
quarta fractionis | triplicata, sive -^ ducta in integrum 3 ? 
similiter, ductis in invicem tam numeratoribus quam no- 
minatoribus, fractio fractionis fractionis, &c. ad integrum 
reducitur. Haec cum tam clara sint et per se manifesta, 
mirum profecto per quantas ambages, quam operosam 
theorematum, citationum, et specierum supellectilem a non- 
nullis demonstrantur, dicam, an obscurantur ?] 

(/) per hyp. 

' The sentences within brackets are not in the 1707 edition. 





Regula proportioncdis dicitur, qua, datis quibus numeris, 
invenitur quartus proportionalis. lUius quidem usus fre- 
quens est et eximius: unde nuncupatur regula aurea, 
Dicitur etiam regula triuniy ob 3 terminos datos. Porro 
quartum directe proportionalem invenies, multiplicando 
terminum secundum per tertium, et productum per primum 
dividendo : E. g. si ut 2 ad 6, ita se habeat 4 ad qusesitum, 
due 4 in 6, et productum 24 divide per 2, quotiens 12 erit 
quartus proportionalis quaesitus. Quod sic demonstro : 

In quatuor proportionalibus, productum extremorum 
aequatur producto terminorum intermediorum. Nam 
propterea quod numeri sint proportion ales, h. e. eandem 
habeant inter se rationem, ratio vero per divisionem co- 
gnoscatur, diviso termino secundo per primum, et quarto 
per tertium, idem proveniet quotiens ; qui (ex natura divi- 
sionis) ductus in terminum primum, producet secundum, 
et in tertium, producet quartum. Jam, si ducamus termi- 
num primum in quartum, vel (quod idem est) in tertium 
et quotientem continue, et terminum tertium in secundum, 
vel (quod idem est) in primum et quotientem continue, 
patet producta fore aequalia, nam iidem sunt utrobique 
factores. Sed ex natura multiplicationis et divisionis 


constat, diviso producto per unum e factoribus, quotientem 
esse alterum. Igitur, si dividam productum duorum ter- 
minorum intermediorum (6 et 4) per primum (2), quotiens 
(12) exhibebit quartum proportionalem quaesitum. 

Qucestio I. Viator tribus horis conficit quindecim mil- 
liaria; quot conficiet novem horarum spatio? Resp. 45. 
Patet enim ex quaestione, ut 3 ad 15, ita 9 esse ad quae- 
situm : i. e. 3 : 15 : : 9 : ergo 135, productum ex 9 in 15, 
divisum per 3, dabit quaesitum, viz. 45. 

Qucest. 2. Si 2 operarii 4 diebus merentur 2S. 5 quantam 
mercedem merebuntur 7 diebus ? h. e. ut 2 in 4 ad 2, ita 5 
in 7 ad quaesitum : sive 8 : 2 : : 35 : ? Unde invenitur quae- 
sita merces, viz. 85. 6rf. 

Qucest. 3. Tres mercatores, inita societate, lucrifaciunt 
100/. expendebat autem primus 5/. secundus 8/. tertius 10/. 
Quaeritur quantum lucri singulis seorsim contigit ? summa 
impensarum est 23/. Die itaque, ut 23 ad 5, ita 100 ad 
qusesitum : numerus proveniens indicabit quantum primo 
de communi lucro debetur; aequum nempe est, ut quam 
proportionem habet cujusque impensa ad summam impen- 
sarum, eandem habeat ipsfus lucrum ad summani lucrorum. 
Porro ad eundem modum dicendo 23 : 8 : : 100 : ? et 23 : 
10 : : 100 : ? caeterorum lucra innotescent. 

[* Proportio composita inversa in simplices facillime 

lib. lib. 

resolvitur. V. g. 2 homines expendunt, 5, 6 diebus : 30 quot 
diebus expendent 8 homines ? Die primo 2:5:18:? inve- 
nies 20 ; die igitur denuo 20 : 6 : 30 : ? et habebis quae- 
situm. Qua vero ratione terminus quaesitus simul et 
semel per regulam satis intricatam innotescat, explicare 
superfluum duco.] 

Qucest 4. Quatuor fistulae implent cisternam 12 horis ; 
quot horis implebitur ilia, ab 8 ejusdem magnitudinis ? 
Dicendum 8 : 4 : : 12 : ? Proinde 4 in 12, h. e. 48, divisa 
per 8, exhibent quaesitum, viz. 6. Neque in hoc casu, ubi 
invertitur proportio ulla est nova difficultas ; nam terminis 
rite dispositis, semper habebimus bina aequalia rectangula, 
quorum unius notum est utrumque latus, alterum vero 
conflatur ex noto termino in ignotum ducto: quare divi- 

' The two following sentences are not in the 1707 edition. 


dendo productum illud prius per notum latus, seu factorem 
hujus, proveniet terminus ignotus. Quo autem ordine 
disponendi sint tennini, ex ipsa quaestione palam fiet. 



Regula. aUigationis simplicis dicitur, qua, propositis 
duabus rebus diversi pretii aut ponderis, &c. invenitur 
tertium quoddam genus, ex datis ita compositum, ut illius 
pretium vel pondus, &c. aequetur dato cuidam pretio vel 
ponderi, &c. inter proposita intermedio. E.g. PoUex 
cubicus auri pendit uncias (i8), pollex cubicus argenti 
uncias (12). Quaeritur pollex cubicus metalli cujusdam 
ex utroque mixti qui pendat 16 uncias ; in quo problemate, 
pondus intermedium 16 superat argenti pondus per 4, et 
superatur ab auri pondere per 2. Jam, si capiamus f cubi 
argentei, et f cubi aurei, patet eas una conflatas dare pol- 
licem cubicum ; quippe f et |^ aequantur unitati. Quin 
patet etiam metalli hujusce mixti pondus aequari dato inter- 
medio t6 ; nam argenti, quod levius est per 4, accepimus 
2 partes ; igitur detectus est 2 in 4 ; auri vero, quod gravius 
est per 2, accepimus 4 partes : adeoque excessus est 4 in 2, 
i. e. aequalis defectui ; qui proinde se mutuo tollunt. 

Hinc oritur regula pro alligatione rerum duarum: Fractio 
quse nominatur a summa differentiarum, et numeratur a 
defectu minoris infra medium indicat quantitatem majoris 
sumendam ; et vicissim quse eundem habens nominatorem, 
numeratur ab excessu majoris supra medium, indicat 
quantitatem minoris sumendam. 

Qucest. Sunt duo genera argenti, uncia purioris valet 7, 
vilioris 4, quaeruntur 3 unciae argenti, quae valeant sin- 
gulae 5? Resol. constat ex regula, si accipiam | unciae 
vilioris, et \ unciae purioris argenti, haberi unam unciam 
mixti quaesiti; haec triplicata solvit quaestionem. 

Quod si res alligandae sint plures duabus, dicitur alligatio 
composita. E.g. sunt quinque vini genera, vis massici 
est I, chii 3, falerni 5, caecubi 7, corcyraei 9 : volo mixtum 
cujus vis sit 4. Mixti aequaliter ex chio et massico, vis 



erit 2 : nimirum dimidium summse datarum i et 3, uti per 
se patet. Similiter, mixti sequaliter ex falerno ceecubo et 
corcyreso, vis erit 7, i.e. J numeri 21, seu summse virium 
misturam hancce componentium, 2 et 7 alligo cum vi 
intermedia data, viz. 4, defectus est 2, excessus 3, summa 
difFerentiarum 5 : igitur sumends sunt f misturse prioris, 
I posterioris; porro divisis ^ per a, quotiens indicat 
quantum singulorum, chii et massici, accipiendum sit. 
Similiter | divisEe per 3 dicent quantum falerni, &c. mix* 
turse qusesitse inesse debet. Proinde ^ massici, ^ chii, 
yV falerni, -^f ciecubi, jV corcyraei dabunt qusesitum. 

Hinc cernimuE, quomodo alligatio composita ad sim- 
plicem reducatur. >fimirum pondera, pretia, magnitudines, 
aut qusecunque demum sunt alliganda, in binas colligantur 
summas, quse dividendse sunt, utraque, per numerum ter- 
minorum qui ipsam constituunt: quotientesjuxta regulam 
alligationis simplicis alligentur cum tennino intermedio; 
quse proveniunt fractiones, divisa: singulce per numerum 
rerum, mixturam sive summam ad quam s^tant ingre- 
dientium, indigitabunt quantitatem ex singulis capiendam. 
Demonstratio patet ex dictis. 

N. B. In altigatione plurium rerum quRStio quKvis 
innumeras admittit solutiones, idque ob d uplicem ratom 
nam primo termini deficientes cum ffl|' 

mode colligi possunt ; unde varii prodiM 

dato termino intermedio alligandi. Cavendum tameit ftSS. 
ne dicti quotientes sint siniul majores, aut simul minores 
medio ; quod si eveniat, patet qusesitum esse impossiWIc. 
Secundo, unum eundemque terminum licet s^epius repetere j 
unde illius portio augebitur, reliquorum vera portione* 

Libet in studiosorum gratiam hic exhibcrc solutlDaCiIll 
Celebris illius problematis, ad Axchimedem ab Hiq ' 

Quasi. Ex conflatis auro et argento fit cou 
quantum et insit auri, quantum argend? 
violari non sinit tyrannus. Respott. Poi 
una auri, altera argenti, quarurajj 
ponderis ac corona. Quibus par" 
forma, sic proponi posse: ' '^ 
argenti, invenire libram i 



sit datee intermediee molis: igitur inquirendEe sunt i 

sarum et coronse magnitu dines. Quoniam vero cor' 

soliditas geometrice determinari nequeat, opus est strata- 
gemate. Singulse ergo vasi aqua pleno seorsim immer- 
^antur ; mensuretur autem quantitas aquEC ad cujusque 
immersionem profluentis quam immersse moli magnitudine 
sequalem esse constat : immerso utique auro, aqua exundans 
sit 5, argento 9, corona 6. Hue igitur redit qusestio; 
datis libra auri cujus magnitude est 5, et libra argenti 
cujus magnitudo est 9, quseritur quantum ex singulis capere 
oporteat, ut habeamus Hbram metalli cujus magnitudo sit 
6 : proinde alligatis 9 et ^ cum magnitudine intermedia 6, 
innotescet quantitas aun, viz. J lib, et J lib, quantitas 
areenti, coronse immisti. 

Hinc patet, quam non difficile sit probiema, ob cuius 
solutionem notum illud cvpijica ingeminavit olim Archimedes. 

CAP. Ill 


^ Progressio Arithntetica dicitur series numerorum, eadem 
communi differentia crescentium vel decrescentii " 
In hac serie i. 4. 7. 
munis excessus, quo 
tertius secundum, 
hac altera decres 

est com- 


et in 

2 est 



33 minori extreme i addendo. Idem invenitur, datis majore 
extreme, differentia communi, et numero locorum quibus 
terminus quaesitus a maximo sejungitur, ducendo com- 
munem differentiam in numerum locorum datum, et pro- 
ductum e majore extremo auferendo. Patet etiam qua 
ratione datis termino quolibet, ejusdem indice, et communi 
differentia, terminus primus assignetur; et quomodo ex 
datis termino quovis, illius indice, et minore extremo, 
communis differentia itemque ex datis termino, differentia, 
et minore extremo, termini index eruatur. Quin et illud 
etiam patet, viz. dimidium summae duorum terminorum 
aequari medio proportionali arithmetico. E.g. 7 et 13 
faciunt 20, cujus dimidium 10 est terminus inter datos medius 
(vide seriem primam). Hsec et alia bene multa theoremata 
ac problemata, eorumque solutiones, ex ipsa progressionis 
arithmeticae natura facile quisquam deduxerit, praesertim 
si logistica speciosa utatur. Quapropter ea exercitii causa 
tyronibus relinquo. 

Progressio Geometrica vocatur series numerorum, eadem 
continua ratione crescentium vel decrescentium. E.g. 3. 
6. 12. 24. 48. 96. sunt in progressione geometrica, cujus 
ratio communis est dupla, nimirum terminus quisque 
duplus est praecedentis. Similiter numeri hujus decre- 
scentis seriei, 81. 27. 9. 3. i. progrediuntur ratione sub- 
tripla, i. e. terminus quilibet praecedentis subtriplus est 
sive \, 

Ubi observandum est, terminum quemvis conflari ex 
potestate communis rationis, ipsi cognomine, in terminum 
primum ducta. E. g. In serie prima, 48, terminus exclu- 
sive quartus, producitur ex 16, potestate quarta numeri 2 
(i.e. quae generatur ex 2 ter in seipsum ducto, siquidem 
ipsa radix dicitur potestas prima) per terminum primum 
3 multiplicata. Quamobrem ea quae de progressione 
arithmetica diximus etiam hie locum habent, si pro addi- 
tione et subductione multiplicationem et divisionem, pro 
multiplicatione et divisione involutionem et evolutionem, 
sive radicum extractionem adhibeamus\ E.g. Quemad- 
modum in progressione arithmetica summa extremorum 
bisecta dat medium arithmeticum, ita in progressione geo- 

^ [N.B. Quomodo potestatum quam secuti sumus de quadrato et 
quarumvis radices extrahantur, cubo eorumque radicibus agentes, 
lector diligens, juxta methodum investigare poterit.] — Author. 


metrica medius proportionalis est radix product! extremo- 
rum. Adeoque theoremata et problemata quod spectat, 
iis, cum ilia ex nuda serierum contemplatione facillime 
eruantur, ulterius deducendis non immorabimur. 

At vero unum est progressionis geometricae theorema, 
ex quo olim derivata fuit, et etiamnum dependet nobilis 
logarithmorum scientia, quodque adeo hie visum est ex- 

In progressione geometrica cujus principium est unitas, 
rectangulum duorum quorumlibet terminorum sequatur 
termino ejusdem progressionis, qui pro indice habet 
summam indicum factorum. E. g. Si sequentis seriei 

{J J Z* ^' / \.' J' f ducamus terminum secundum 2 in 
o. I. 2. 3. 4. 5. o. J 

quartum 8, productum 16 est terminus quintus, cujus index 

4 aequatur indicibus secundi et quarti una coUectis. 

Ratio manifesta est: nam quaelibet potestas, in aliam 
quamcunque ejusdem radicis ducta, procreat tertiam, cujus 
dimensiones tot sunt, quot fuere in utraque potestate 
generante. Sed in progressione geometrica, cujus ter- 
minus primus sit unitas, patet reliquos omnes subsequentes 
esse potestates ex communi ratione genitas, quarum 
singulae tot habeant dimensiones, quot locis ab unitate 

Igitur si infinitse progression! geometricae adscriberetur 
indicum series itidem infinita, ad obtinendum duorum 
terminorum rectangulum baud necesse foret unum per 
alterum multiplicare ; oporteret solummodo, indicibus una 
collectis, quaerere indicem qui aggregato aequetur; is sibi 
adscriptum ostenderet rectangulum quaesitum. Similiter, 
si dividendus sit unus terminus per alium, differentia 
indicum, si extrahenda sit radix quadrata aut cubica, J 
aut i indicis, quaesitum quotum, vel radicem, indigitaret. 

Hinc patet, difficiliores arithmeticae operationes insigni 
compendio exerceri posse, si conderentur tabulae, in quibus 
numeri natural! ordine collocati habeant singuli indicem 
a latere respondentem : tunc quippe multiplicatio, sola 
additione; divisio, subductione; extractio radicum, bisec- 
tione vel trisectione indicum, peragerentur. Sed indices 
illos, sive logarithmos, numeris accommodare, hoc opus, 
hie labor est; in quo exantlando plurimi desudarunt mathe- 

38 arithmetica: pars tertia 

Primi quidem tabularum conditores hac fere methodo 
usi sunt. Numeris i. lo. loo. looo, &c. in progressione 
decupla existentibus, logarithmos assignarunt o.ooooooo. 
i.ooooooo. 2.0000000. 3.0000000, &c. Deinde ut numeri 
alicujus, v.g. 4, inter i et 10 intermedii, logarithmum 
invenirent, adjectis utrique septem cyfris, inter i.ooooooo, 
et 10.0000000, medium proportionalem quaesiere ; qui 
si minor esset quam 4, inter ipsum et 10.0000000, 
si vero major, inter eum et i.ooooooo, medius propor- 
tionalis indagandus erat: porro inter hunc (si minor 
esset quam 4) et proxime majorem, sin major, et proxime 
minorem, denuo quaerebant medium proportionalem; et 
sic deinceps, usque dum ventum fuisset ad numerum, non 
nisi insensibili particula, puta TryTn^WryD* ^ proposito 4 
differentem. Hujus autem logarithmus obtinebatur, in- 
veniendo medium arithmeticum inter logarithmos numero- 
rum I et 10, et alium inter ipsum et logarithmum denarii, 
&c. Jam si bipartiatur logarithmus numeri 4, habebitur 
logarithmus binarii, idem duplicatus dat logarithmum nu- 
meri 16 ; et si logarithm© quaternionis addatur logarithmus 
binarii, summa erit logarithmus octonarii. Simili methodo, 
ex uno logarithmo numerii 4 alii innumeri inveniri possunt. 

Ad eundem modum, cum caeteris numeris inter unitatem 
et decadem intermediis aptati essent logarithmi, alios quam- 
plurimos eorum summae, differentiae, &c. suppeditarunt. 
Sed de his satis ; neque enim omnia quae ad logarithmos 
spectant tradere statuimus: id duntaxat propositum fuit, 
eorum naturam, usum, et inventionem quadantenus ex- 












First published in 1707 








Tanta fuit patris tui, dum viveret, apud eruditos existi- 
matio, ut me rem iis pergratam facturum arbitrer, si filium, 
sui acuminis ac solertiae haeredem, ipsum reliquisse palam 
faciam. Fatendum quidem est, patruum tuum, virum 
doctrina juxta ac humanitate insigni, tale aliquid jam 

* Samuel Molyneux, to whom 
the Miscellanea Maihemaiica are ad- 
dressed, was a son of the William 
Molyneux (the friend and corre- 
spondent of Locke) by whom 
Locke's Essay on Human Under- 
standing was introduced to Trinity 
College soon after its first publica- 
tion. Cf. New Theory of Vision^ 
* Editor's Preface/ and sect. 132. 
The younger Molyneux was born 
in 1689, at Chester, where his 
family had retreated for a time 
from the tyranny of Lord Tyr- 
connel's government. He was 
trained by his father with great 
care, according to the method of 
Locke's tract on Education, and 
afterwards, when his father died 
'in October, 1698), by his uncle 
Dr. Thomas Molyneux. Samuel 

Molyneux was Berkeley's pupil 
at Trinity College, Dublin. In 
the early part of his public life he 
was secretary at Hanover to the 
Prince ofWales, afterwards George 
n. He introduced his former 
tutor to the Prince, and to the 
Princess, afterwards Queen Caro- 
line. Mr. Molyneux lived much 
at Kew. He was a proficient in 
optics and astronomy. He died 
in 1728. The interesting corre- 
spondence of the elder Molyneux, 
and also of the uncle, with Locke, 
between July 1692 and January 
1699, may be read in connexion 
with the introduction of the 
Lockian philosophy and Newtonian 
science into Dublin. (See Locke's 
Works, vol. IX. pp. 289-472.) 


pridem fecisse\ Viderat nimirum vir clarissimus, earn 
esse tui necdum adolescentis indolem, ut te olim paterna 
pressurum vestigia verisimile judicaret. Cujus tanti viri 
auctoritas apud me usque eo valuit, ut deinceps magnam 
de te spem conceperim. Nunc autem, cum ipse studiorum 
tuorum consciuSi te saniori philosophiae et mathesi operam 
strenue navantem cernam; quum spinas quibus obsepta 
videtur mathesis, quaeque alios quamplurimos ab ejus 
studio deterrere solent, te e contra ad alacrius pergendum 
stimulare; quum denique ad industriam illam et sciehdi 
ardorem praeclaram ingenii vim sentiam accedere ; exun- 
dantem nequeo cohibere laetitiam quin in orbem literatum 
effluat, teque ex praecipuis (si modo Deus vitam largiatur 
et salutem) ineuntis saeculi ornamentis fore, certissimo 
sane augurio praenuntiem. Proinde, sequentibus quantu- 
liscunque ad te delatis, ansam hancce tecum publice collo- 
quendi arripere gestiebam; cum ut ipse proprio cedam 
affectui, tum ut tu, expectatione de te coorta, tanquam 
vinculo quodam, alioqui non ingrato, ille rerum pulcherri- 
marum studio devinciare. 

^ [Vide epistolam Thomse Moly- of Medicine in the University of 

neux, M.D. ad Episcopum Cloghe- Dublin, and Physician-General to 

rensem. Philosoph, Transact. No. the Army. He attained repute, 

282.]— Author. and was made a baronet in 1730. 

Thomas Molyneux, younger He died in 1733. (See Philosoph. 

brother of William, was Professor Transact, No. 282.) 



Id mihi olim in mentem venit, ut putarem praxin alge- 
braicam factum iri nonnihil faciliorem, si ablegate signo 
radicali, alia quaepiam excogitaretur potestatum imper- 
fectanim radices computandi methodus, quae ab usitata in 
reliquis operationum forma minus abhorreret. Nimirum, 
quemadmodum in arithmetica longe facilius tractantur 
fractiones a vulgaribus ad decimales reductae, quia tunc 
notae cujusque loco nominatoris vicem obeunte, altera 
sui parte truncantur, similique forma ac integri descriptae, 
eandemque cum iis seriem constituentes, iisdem itidem 
legibus subjiciuntur ; sic si ex logistica etiam speciosa 
ablegaretur nota ista radicalis [\/] quae, ut nominator in- 
ter fractiones et integros, operationum diversitatem inter 
radices surdas ac rationales inducit, praxis proculdubio 
minus intricata evaderet. 

Quidni itaque radices quascunque surdas, perinde ac 
rationales, per nudas duntaxat literas designemus, v. g. 
pro ^b substituto c vel rf? Quippe surdis ad hunc modum 
designatis, nihil intererit inter eas ac potestatum perfec- 

' These Miscellanea^ published 
along with the Arithmetica in 
1707, contain some ingenious 
operations in Algebra, as well as 
a speculation on the cause of the 
Atmospheric Tide. They conclude 
with an ardent persuasive to the 
study of Mathematics, especially 
Algebra, to which Berkeley was 
then enthusiasticaUy devoted. He 
adduces (pp. 6i-a) Sir William 
Temple, Bacon, Des Cartes, Male- 

branche, and Locke as authorities 
in favour of mathematics, in parti- 
cular algebra, as a mental disci- 
pline ; and he ends by lamenting 
that other studies, dry and jejune, 
were then superseding mathe- 
matics, to which he hoped soon to 

" The suggestion with which 
this essay on Surds commences 
has not met with favour. 


tarum radices; additio, subductio, multiplicatio, &c. ad 
eundeni modum utrobique peragentur. Sed objicere in 
promptu est, vel magis quam signum radicale, species hac 
ratione multiplicatas calculum divexare. Siquidem cum 
nulla sit affinitas seu connexio inter b et c, adeoque una ex 
altera ^nosci nequeat, videtur illius radix aptius designari 
per Vby cujus statim ac cernitur innotescit significatio. 
RespondeOy huic malo mederi posse, si v. g. Graecum 
alphabetum ad designandas radices introducamus, scri- 
bendo /3 pro \/i, 5 pro Vdy &c. Quo pacto non tarn ipsae 
literae quam characteres variabuntur, et nota quaevis 
substituta in tantum referet primitivam, ut scrupulo non 
sit locus. 

Quantitatis ex aliarum multiplicatione aut divisione 
conflatae radix designabitur per earundem radices similiter 
multiplicatas seu divisas. E. g. 

Vbc = ^«, et , /*^ = ^. 

\/ e € 

Si vero proponatur quantitas multinomia, seu constans 
ex pluribus membris (in quibus nulla sit quantitas ignota) 
signis + aut— inter se connexis ; designetur horum aggre- 
gatum (quod et alias quidem saepe fit) per unicam aliquam 
literam. E. g. fiat a + i— c = g cujus radix est y, 

Quaeris autem quid fiat ubi ignotae quantitates notis 
connectantur ; sit v. g. potestas imperfecta /+ a: : nam si 
utamur <^ et f partium nempe potestatis radicibus, ex iis 
nequit determinari radix totius ? Quidni igitur exaequemus 
potestatem datam imperfectam alteri cuidam perfectae, viz. 
/+A:=#+2/f+fft Y^£r-h3ff$±3/ii+m &c.? Tunc 
enim erit/+f = \//-\-x vel 4//+^, &c. 

Sed illud praetermissum est, qua ratione radicis genus 
dignoscatur; utrum scilicet sit quadratica, aut cubica, aut 
biquadratica. Num itaque quadratics linquendi sunt 
characteres Graeci, reliquisque deinceps alii itidem assig- 
nandi ? An potius manente eodem charactere, puncto 
supra notato radicem quadratam, binis cubicam, tribus 

biquadraticam, atque ita porro indigitemus : e.g. a signi- 

ficet radicem quadraticam quantitatis per a designatae, 
• • • * 

a radicem cubicam, a biquadraticam, &c. ? quo quidem 
modo fluxiones primae, secundae, tertiae, &c. designantur. 


Seu denique id satis ducamus quod per retrogressum 
innotescat radicis denominatio ? Quippe inter operandum 
nihil interest cujus generis sit radix aliquai quandoquidem 
omnes absque signo radicali notatae, iisdem subsint legibuS; 
et ad eundem modum tractentur. 

Cruda quidem sunt haec et imperfecta, quamque nullius 
sint pretii ut a me proponuntur, sat cerno. Tu autem, 
clarissime adolescens, cui nee otium deest nee ingenium, ex 
hocce sterquilinio boni aliquid fortasse extraxeris. Caeterum 
baud scio, an ea quae disseruimus tyronibus (reliquos ista 
flocci facturos scio) quadantenus usui esse possint ; eorum- 
que ope disquisitionis analyticae filum nonnunquam eno- 
detur eliminatis, cum ipso signo radicali, operationibus quae 
illud comitantur heterogeneis. Utut id sit, mihi visus sum 
iis ex parte adhibitis, vulgarem de surdis doctrinam, brevius 
et clarius quam ab uUo quod sciam factum est, posse ex- 
plicare. Proinde rem ipsam aggredior. 

Radices surdae dicuntur esse commensurabiles, cum 
earum ad invicem ratio per numeros rationales exprimi 
possit; quod si fieri nequeat, incommensurabiles appel- 
lantur. Porro si propositis duabus radicibus surdis, 
quaerere oporteat, utrum sint commensurabiles necne; 
inveniatur exponens rationis existentis inter potestates 
quibus praefigitur signum radicale : hie si sit potestas 
perfecta, habens eundem indicem ac radices propositae, 
eruntillae commensurabiles: sin minus, incommensurabiles 

censendae sunt. E. g. Sint radices propositae V24 et 

V 54* i fractio quadrata exponit rationem potestatis unius 
24 ad alteram 54 ; adeoque radices sunt commensurabiles, 

viz. v^24 : >y/54 : : 2 : 3. Proponatur denuo 4/320 et 

y/i^S : ratio numeri 320 ad 135 exponitur per f f , cubum 
nempe perfectum, cujus radix ^ indicat rationem radicis 

unius x/320 ad reliquam v 125. Demonstratio manifesta 
est, siquidem norunt omnes radices quadratas esse in 
ratione subduplicata, cubica in subtriplicata, biquadraticas 
in subquadruplicata, et sic deinceps potestatum respecti- 

Quod si radicles sint heterogeneae quarum exploranda 
est ratio, ad idem genus reducantur, involvendo numeros 
signo radicali affixos, singulos juxta indicem radicis 


alterius ; quibus sic involutis praefigenda erit nota radicalis 
cum indice ex indicibus primo datis in se mutuo ductis 

conflato. E.g. Sint radices surdae heterogeneae n/s et 

4/1 1. Cubatis 5, et quadratis 11, proveniunt 125 et 121 : 
his praefixum signum radicale cum indice 6 praestat 

radices homogeneas 4/125 et ^/^^i. Hujus operationis 

ut cernatur ratio, designemus v 5 P^^ speciem quamvis 

simplicem, puta b, et -^11 per C) eritque sjbb— 4/5, et 

^ccc = ^iif et IJbbbbbb = ^125, et ^cccccc = ^/^^i. 

Ubi porro patet quod ^bbbbbb = ijbb et ^cccccc = 


Additionem quod attinet radicum surdarum, ilia, si sint 
commensurabiles, fit praefigendo summam terminorum 
rationis signo radicali, cui sufBgendus est communis 
divisor cujus ope dictae rationis termini innotuerunt. E.g. 

4/24+v/54 = 5\/6* Nam ex antedictis, et iis quae 
sequuntur de multiplicatione, 

4/24 = 2y6, et 4/54 = 3^/6. 

Ad eundem modum fit subductio, nisi quod differentia 
terminorum exponentis signo radicali praefigatur. Si 
addendae sunt aut subducendae radices surdae incommen- 
surabiles, mediantibus signis + aut— connectantur. E.g. 
v^6+\/3 et v^6— \/3 sunt summa et differentia radicum 
numerorum 6 et 3 ; quo quidem modo surdis adduntur aut 
subducuntur etiam numeri rationales. 

Si radix surdaper aliam homogeneam multiplicanda sit; 
rectangulo potestatum praeponatur nota radicalis, simulque 
index communis. E. g. 

\/3 X 4/7 = 4/21 et ^gy. ^x = IJgx. 

Ad cujus praxeos demonstrationem, designentur radices 
numerorum 3 et 7 per b et rf, ut sit bb = ^ ^t dd=q, et 

liquido constabit, quod ,^bb dd = 6rf, i. e. radix quadrata 
product! aequatur producto radicum quadratarum. Idem 
ad eundem modum ostendi potest de aliis quibuscunque 
radicibus, cubicis, biquadraticis, &c. Radices hetero- 
geneae, priusquam multiplicentur, ad homogeneas re- 



ducendae sunt. Si numerus rationalis in surdum ducendus 
sit, elevetur ille ad potestatem datae imperfectae cogno- 
minem, cui praefigatur nota radicalis, unaque ejusdem 
potestatis index. Caetera ut prius. E. g. 

5 X ^4 = 4/125 X 4/4 = 4/500- 
Vel brevius sic, 5 4/4 ; et generaliter 


Divisionem quod attinet, quoties dividendus et divisor 
sunt ambo radices surdae, ablata (si qua sit) heterogeneitate, 
nota radicalis cum proprio indice quotienti potestatum 
praefixa, quotum quaesitum exhibebit. E. g. 

4/7-4/3 = 4/1 = 4/2 J- 

Si vero ex duobus alteruter duntaxat numerus seu species 
signo radicali afficitur; reliquus, juxta indicem radicis datae 
involutus, notae radicali suffigatur : deinde ut prius. E. g. 

4/96 - 4 = 4/96 -f 4/64 = 4/if = 4/f. 

Vel sine praeparatione ^^^- Et generaliter 


6«'" b 
Haec, velut praecedentia, facillime demonstrantur. 


NoN ita pridem incidi in librum cui titulus, De Imperio 
Soils et Lunce in Corpora humana, authore viro cl. M.D. et 
S.R.S*. Qui sane quantus sit, et quantulus sim ipse, non 

* This on the Atmospheric Tide 
exposes some absurd errors, but 
it is hard to see its value other- 
wise. To the mathematician it 
seems to involve a deficient ap- 
preciation of what constitutes 
mathematical proof. 

* The author of this book was 
Dr. Richard Mead, bom 1673, 

an eminent London physician, 
author of works in medicine and 
natural philosophy. His book De 
Imperio Solis et Lunce was first 
published in London in 1704, and 
editions afterwards appeared in 
Leyden, Naples, Amsterdam, and 
Frankfort It was translated into 
English in 1708. 



Ignore. Sed ut libera dicam quod sentio, sententiam ejus 
De jEstu AertSy quam ibidem explicatam dat, utpote cele- 
berrimi Newtoni principiis innixam, ambabus ulnis am- 
plexus sum. Verumtamen baud scio, an author ingeniosus 
phaenomenon quorundam isthuc pertinentium causas tam 
recte assecutus sit. Quam vero justa sit dubitandi ratio, 
tu, cujus perspectum habeo acumen, optime judicabis. 

Tribuit vir cl. altiorem aeris circa aequinoctia tumorem 
figurse sphseroidali terrse : differentiam insuper inter aeris 
intumescentiam, quae a luna meridionali, et illam quae a 
luna (ut ita loquar) antimeridionali in sphaera obli(;jua 
excitatur, eidem causae acceptam refert. Ego vero neutnus 
istorum phaenomenon explicationem ab oblata sphaeroide 
petendam duco. Propterea quod, primo, quamvis sententia 
quae massam aereo-terrestrem ea esse figura contendit, 
rationibus tam physicis quam mathematicis comprobetur, 
et nonnuUis item phaenomenis pulchre respondeat ; non 
tamen apud omnes usque adeo obtinet, ut nuUi veteris, vel 
etiam oppositse sententiae fautores, iique non minimae notae 
viri, hodie reperiantur. Et sane memini, D. Chardellou, 
astronomiae peritissimum, abhinc plus minus sesquianno, 
mihi indicasse, sibi ex observationibus astronomicis axem 
terrae diametro aequatoris compertum esse longiorem : 
adeoque terram esse quidem sphaeroidem, sed qualem vult 
Burnetius ^, ad polos assurgentem, prope aequatorem vero 
humiliorem. Attamen quod ad me attinet, mallem quidem 
viri clarissimi observationes potius in dubium vocare, 
quam argumentis quae terram esse oblatam demonstrant 
obviam ire. Nihilominus, quoniam sententia ista non 
omnibus aeque arridet, illam tanquam principium ad 
phaenomenon ullum explicandum adhiberi noUem, nisi res 
aliter commode explicari nequeat. Sed secundo, tantum 

* This reference is to the curious 
book by Thomas Burnet (1635- 
17 15), entitled, Telluris Theoria 
Sacra : orbis nostri originent, et 
mutationes generales quas ant jam 
subitj aut olitn subiiurus esiy cont' 
pleciens, London, 168 1. It con- 
tains ingenious speculations, un- 
sustained by geological facts. The 
opinion referred to is thus stated : 
< Manifestum est partes polares 

altiores fuisse aequinoctialibus, sive 
remotiores a centro : unde aquae 
ceciderunt versus polos, in medias 
terrae partes defluere debuerunt, 
et totam fere telluris superficiem 
irrigare.' (Lib. II. cap. 5.) Burnet 
replied in defence of his theory. He 
also wrote Remarks on Locke's 
Essayy in series of tracts (1697- 
1699), afterwards collected. 



abest quod supradictorum effectuum explicatio sphaeroi- 
dalem terrae figuram necessario poscat, ut vix ullam inde 
lucis particulam mutuari videatur : id quod^ appositis quae 
in banc rem scribit vir clarissimus, ostendere conabor. 
' Altius (inquit) solito se attoUit aer circa duo aequinoctia, 
quoniam cum aequinoctialis linea illi globi terrestris circulo 
adversa respondeat qui diametrum babet maximam, utrum- 
que sidus dum in ilia versatur terrae est vicinius.* De 
Imp. Sol. et Lun, p. 9. Jam vero, utrum vicinior iste 
luminarium situs par sit attoUendo aeri in cumulum solito 
sensibiliter altiorem, merito ambigi potest. Etenim tantilla 
est differentia inter axem transversum et conjugatum 
ellipseos, cujus volutione 
gignitur spbaerois terrestris, 
ut ilia ad spbaeram quam- 
proxime accedat. Verum 
ut accuratius rem prose- 
quamur, designet a c b d 
sectionem per polos massae 
aereo-terrestris, in qua sit 
dc axis a b diameter aequa- 
toris. Jam inito calculo, 
deprebendi vim lunae at- 
tractricem in b vel a non 
esse x^jy^ sui parte fortio- 

rem quam foret in c vel rf, si ilia polo alterutri directe 
immineret, et proinde differentiunculam istam effectui ulli 
sensibili edendo imparem omnino esse. Considerandum 
etiam, lunam ab aequatore nunquam tertia parte arcus b d 
distare, dictamque proinde quantulamcunque differentiam 
adbuc valde minuendam esse. Quod autem de luna 
diximus, id de sole, cum multis vicibus longius absit, 
adbuc magis constabit. 

Verum <juidem est D. Mead alias insuper causas aestus 
prope aequmoctia altioris attulisse ; viz. ' agitationem fluidi 
spbaeroidis in majori orbe se revolventis majorem, praeterea 
vim centrifugam effectum babentem eo loci longe maxi- 
mum/ Quod ad primam, etsi ilia prima fronte nonnibil 
prae se ferre visa sit, fatendum tamen est, me non omnino 
percipere, quomodo aliquid inde ad distinctam rei pro- 
positae explicationem faciens colligi possit. Quod ad 
secundam, constat sane vim centrifugam prope aequatorem 



esse longe maximam, et propterea massam aereo-terrestrem 
figuram oblatae sphaeroidis induisse : quid vero aliud hinc 
sequatur non intelligo. 

Verum etiamsi concedamus aerem, propter causas a 
clarissimo viro allatas, circa aequinoctia ad aequatorem 
supra modum tumefieri; non tamen inde apparet, cjuam- 
obrem apud nos, qui tarn procul ab aequatore degimus, 
turn temporis altius solito attollatur: quinimo contrarium 
sequi videtur. Sequenti pagina sic scribit D. Mead'. 
'Ut finem tandem faciam, in iisdem parallelis ubi lunae 
declinatio est, ilium coeli polum versus qui altissimus 
insurgit, validissima est attractio, cum ilia ad ejus loci 
meridianum verticem accedit, minima vero, ubi pervenit 
ad meridianum loci oppositi; quod contra contingit in 
parallelis his adversis. Causa est in sphaeroide terrae 
aetherisque figura.' Ergo vero causam non esse in terrae 
et ambientis aetheris figura propterea puto, quod posita 
terra vel perfecte spherica, vel etiam oblonga, idem certe 
eveniret, uti infra patebit. 

Restat ut harum rerum explicationem ipse aggrediar, 
siquidem eo praesertim nomine suspecta mihi fuit ratio 
a sphaeroidali terrae figura deducta, quod, nulla ipsius 
habita ratione, res tota clarissime simul ac facillime exponi 
posse videbatur. 

Newtonus, Operis sui Physico-Mathematici, lib. iii. 
prop. 24. ubi aestuum marinorum phenomena explicat, haec 
habet : ' Pendet etiam effectus utriusque luminaris ex ipsius 
declinatione seu distantia ab aequatore. Nam si luminare 
in polo constitueretur, traheret illud singulas aquae partes 
constanter, absque actionis intensione et remissione, 
adeoque nullam motus reciprocationem cieret. Igitur 
luminaria recedendo ab aequatore polum versus effectus 
suos gradatim amittent, et propterea minores ciebunt aestus 
in syzygiis solstitialibus quam in aequinoctialibus.' Atqui 
non alia causa videtur quaerenda ullius phaenomeni aestus 
aerei, quam quae ad similem effectum in aestu marino 
excitandum sufficiat. Sed ut id quod a viro per totum 
orbem longe celeberrimo breviter adeoque subobscure 
traditum est, uberius exponam ; sit in priore figura a d c b 

' Mead, De Impeiio Solis ei LttncPf p. 7. 


meridianus, etab axis massse aereoterrestris ; sol autem 
et luna in polo constitui conctpiantur. Manifestum est, 
quamvis massse aerese partem, puta rf, durante circum- 
volutione diurna, eandem semper distantiam a luminaribus 
tueri, adeoque vi ubique sequali in eonim corpora trahi. 
Proinde aer non uno tempore attollitur, alio deprimitur, 
sed per totum diem in eadem hseret altitudine. Verum 
secundo, in eadem iigura reprsesentet a c b d sequatorem 
aut parallelum quemvis, luminaria interim in piano asqui- 
noctiali existant ; quo tempore manifestum est, turn ipsum 
sequatorem, turn singulos parallelos, ellipticam induere 
figuram. Manifestum etiam est, aerem qui nunc a, apicem 
axis transversi, obtinet, adeoque altissimus insurgit, post 
sex horas, c, extremum axis conjugati, ubi humillimus 
deprimetur, occupaturum, maximamque proinde motus 
reciprocationem cieri. Ut igitur rem omnem simul ab- 
solvam, gibbos sphasroidis seatuosse triplici ratione locari 
concipiamus; vel in polls, vel in aequatore, vel in locis 
intermediis. In primo casu, esset planum rot at ion is 
diumse ad axem sphasroidis perpend icul are, adeoque cir- 
culus ; unde nuUus foret xstus : in secundo, esset ad 
eundem parallelum, adeoque ellipsis, inter cujus axes 
maxima sit differentia; unde maximi forent a^stus: in 
tertio, quo magis ad situm perpendicularem accederet, eo 
circulo vicinius esset, adeoque minores forent aestus. 

Reliquum est ut demonstrem, differentiam quas est in 
sph^ra obliqua inter asstum 
quemvis et subsequentem, 
ubi luna extra asquatorem 
vagatur, terra posita vel 
oblata, vel ad amussim 
sphserica, vel etiam oblonga, 
perinde causatum iri. Sit 
a b axis mundi, g d sequator, 
£ locus quivis,/ ^ loci par- 
allelus, h I axis sphseroidis 
iestuos^ ob actionem, potis- 
si mum, lunse utrinque tu- 
mentis. Luna autem prope 

/ constituatur. Demonstrandum est c k altitudinem aeris, 
luna prope loci meridianum existente, majorem esse c f, 
aeris altitudine, ubi luna meridianum loci oppositi trans- 

£ 3 


ierit. Ducatur p s parallelus priori ex adverse respondens, 
et producantur c k^ c f 2A p et 5. Per constructionem 
arcus^A aequalis est arcui kl) ergo arcus/A major est 
arcu A/; ergo propter ellipsin recta/ 5 minor est recta kp^ 
tif c minor k. c. Q. e. d. 



Latus trlanguli aequilateri est ad diametrum inscripti 
circuli, ut \/ 3 ad i; et perpendicularis ex angulo quovis 
ad latus oppositum demissa, est ad eandem, ut 3 ad 2. 

Haec cuivis, algebram et geometriam utcunque callenti, 
facile constabunt. 


Invenire rationem quae existit inter Cylindrum et Conum 
aequilaterum eidem Sphaerae circumscriptos. 

Ponanius diametrum et peripheriam basis cylindri 
esse singulas unitatem. Eruntque, per lemma, diameter 
basis coni ejusdemque peripheria singulae \/3. Proinde 
I X i = J = bas. cylindri ; et ^ = summae basium. Et 
V3 X iv 3 =•} = bas. coni, et superficies cylindri seu 
quadruplum baseos =1. Et superficies simplex coni 

= I = ^ X ^6. Nam \/| (h. e. media proportionalis 

inter \/3 latus coni, et basis radium seu V'f ) est radius 
circuli eequalis superficiei conicae. Et per praecedentia 
1 + ^ = 1= sup. tot. cylindri, et f + i = f = sup. tot. coni. 
Porro per hypothesin et lemma, axis cylindri est i, et 
coni |. Soliditas autem cylindri = Jx 1 = J, et soliditas 
coni = f X i = i. Hinc, comparatis inter se homogeneis, 
eruitur sequens 

* This theorem of the Equilateral Cone and Cylinder is at best an 
ingenious conceit. 




Inter Conum aequilaterum et Cylindrum eidem Sphaerae 
circumscriptos, eadem obtinet ratio sesquialtera, quoad 
superficies totas, superficies simplices, soliditates, altitu- 
dines, et bases. 

Duobus abhinc annis' Theorema illud non sine admi- 
ratione aliqua inveni. Nee tamen propriam ingenii vim 
aut sagacitatem ullam, quippe in re tarn facili, sed quod 
Tacquetus*, notissimus matheseos Professor, tantopere 
gloriatus sit, de invento cui impar non sit tyro, id demum 
admiratus sum. Nempe is invenerat partem aliquam Theo- 
rematis praefati, viz. quod ' conus aequilaterus sit cylindri, 
eidem sphaerae circumscripti, soliditate et superficie tota 
sesquialter; quodque adeo continuata esset ratio* inter 
conum aequilaterum, cylindrum, et sphaeram. Haec est 
ipsa ilia propositio, ad quam spectat schema, quod praefati 
authoris tractatus De Theorematis ex Archimede setectiSy in 
ipsa fronte, una cum epigraphe inscriptum prsefert. Quin 
etiam videas quae dicat Jesuita ' in praefatione, in scholio 
ad prop. 32, et sub finem propositionis 44^ ejusdem trac- 
tatus. Ubi Theorema hocce tanquam illustre aliquod 
inventum, et Archimedaeorum aemulum ostentat. Idem 
quod Tacquetus, etiam CI. Wallisius* in additionibus et 
emendationibus ad cap. Ixxxi. algebrae suae, a D. Caswello" 
ope Arithmetices Infinitorum demonstratum exhibet. Quod 
ipsum, quoad alteram ejus partem, facit D. Dechales*' in 
libro suo de Indivisibihum Methodo, prop. 20. Sed tam 
ipsa indivisibihum methodus, quam quae in ea fundatur 
arithmetica infinitorum, a nonnullis minus Geometricae 

Integrum autem Theorema a nemine, quod sciam. 

' i. c. in 1705. 

* Cf. p. 5. 

* i. c. Tacquet. 

* Wallis, the eminent mathema- 
tician and logician, died in 1703. 

* John Caswell, an Oxford 
mathematician, author of A Brief 
Account of the Doctrine of Trigono- 
metry (1689) and other works. 

* Des Chales, a native of Cham- 
bery in Savoy, was professor of 
mathematics in Clermont, and 
afterwards in Turin. His edition 
of Euclid was long a popular text- 
book. His works were published 
at Lyons, in four folios, under the 
title of Mundus Mathentaticus, 
He died in 1678. 



antehac demonstratum fuit. Attamen si verum est quod 
opinatur Tacquetus: 'Idcirco Archimedi inter alia tarn 
multa et praeclara inventa, illud quo cylindrum inscriptae 
sphaerae soliditate et superficie sesquialterum esse demon- 
strat, prae reliquis placuisse : quod corponim, et super- 
ficierum corpora ipsa continentium, eadem esset atque una 
rationalis proportio : ' si, inquam, hoc in causa fuit, cur 
is cylindrum sphaerae circumscriptum tumulo insculptum 
voluit; quid tandem faceret senex ille Siculus, si unam 
eandemque rationalem proportionem bina corpora quintu- 
plici respectu intercedere deprehendisset ? Illud tamen 
quam facile ex ejus inventis profluat, modo vidimus. 

[*Simili fere methodo ac nos illud omnia Tacqueti 
Theoremata Archimedaeis subjuncta, adde et centum 
istiusmodi alia si cui operae pretium videbitur, difficile erit 
invenire et demonstrare.] 


Sub idem tempus quo Theorema illud, Ludum etiam 
Algebraicum inveni. Quippe cum vidissem e familiaribus 
meis nonnullos, per dimidios ferme dies, Scacchorum' 
ludo gnaviter incumbentes, acre eorum studium in re nihili 
admiratus, rogavi quidnam esset quod tantopere laborarent? 
I Hi porro pergratum animi exercitium renuntiant. Hoc 
ego mecum reputans, mirabar quamobrem tam pauci ad 
mathesin, utilissimam sane scientiam eandemque jucun- 
dissimam, animum applicarent. An quod difficilis sit? 
Sed multi et ingenio valent, nee laborem in nugis fastidiunt 
ullum. An potius, quod gratissimum animi exercitium non 
sit ? Sed quaenam, quaeso, est ilia ars, aut disciplina, aut 

^ This sentence is not contained 
in the 1707 edition. 

* This Algebraic Game, proposed 
as more useful than Chess, and at 
the same time a pleasing exercise 
in Algebra, is characteristic of 
Berkeley. Portions of what fol- 
lows, especially the formulae for 
combinations which the conditions 
of the Game admit of, contained 
in the Appendix, are in his 

Cotntnonplace Book. The Game 
itself is a sort of lottery in equa- 
tions. It is worth little, save as 
showing the bent of Berkeley's 
mind towards the practical side 
even of a game of chance. In 
reading it, he supposes himself, 
like a spider, in the centre of the 
^ Chess. 


quodcunque demum opus, quod omnem animi facultatem, 
solertiam, acumen, sagacitatem pulchrius exerceat? Sed 
ludus est mathesis ? Nihilo secius jucunda : eo tamen si 
venisset nomine, tunc forsan lepidi isti homunciones, qui 
tempus ludendo tenint, ad ejus studium se protinus accin- 
gerent. Subiit adhaec sapientissimi viri Johannis Lockii \ 
in re non multum absimili, consilium. Sequentem proinde 
lusum ad praxin algebras exercendam, rudi fateor Minerva, 
excogitavi, sed qualis adolescenti, aliis praesertim studiis 
occupato, facile spero condonabitur. 

Problemata algebraica immediate constituunt aequationes 
datae, quae in quaestionibus determinatis quantitates quae- 
sitas numero exaequant. Quaelibet autem aequatio duobus 
constat membris aequalitatis signo connexis, in quorum 
utroque considerandae veniunt; primo, species, utrum 
scilicet quantitates datas aut quaesitas designent ; deinde, 
signa quibus connectuntur. EfBcere itaque ut haec omnia 
ad constituendas quaestiones sorte obveniant, ludumque 
tam ex quaestionum formatione, quam ex earundem reso- 
lutione, concinnare operam damus. 

In asserculo, qualis ad dominarum aut scacchorum lusum 
vulgo adhiberi solet,depingatur circulusquadrato inscriptus, 
reliquaque omnia quae in apposito Schemate ^ continentur ; 
nisi quod loco circellorum nigrantium facienda sint fora- 
mina. Quibus peractis, habebimus Tabulam lusoriam. 
Parandus insuper est stylus tenuis e ligno, qui alicui ex 
dictis foraminibus infigatur. Reliquum est ut horum usum 

Ut vides, operationum logisticarum Symbola ad latera 
et angulos Quadrati scribuntur: porro latera prioribus, 
anguli vero posterioribus, aequationum membris signa 
impertiunt. Circulus autem inscriptus a sedecim cuspi- 
dibus in totidem partes aequales dispescitur, ita ut tres 
cuspides ad latus et angulum quemvis spectent, sed aliae 
directe, aliae oblique: quae oblique latus aliquod aut an- 
gulum respiciunt, eae angulo et lateri communes sunt; 
quae vero directe latus aliquod intuentur, eae ad angulum 
nullum pertinent, sed ad utrosque adjacentes pariter re- 
feruntur. Et vicissim, quae angulum aliquem directe 

^ See Locke's Essay on the Con- Tabula Lusoria occupies an en- 
duci o/the Uttderstandingf i >]. larged page, which faces this 

* In the original edition, the section. 


intuentur, eee ad latus nuHum pertinent, sed ad utra- 
que adjacentia pariter referri censend^e sunt. 

In formanda itaque qusestione, primo observanda est 
cuspis quam stylus respicit, latusque et angulum ad quos 
pertineat ; horum signa notentur, quippe quae, ut diximus, 


species utriusque cujuslibet sequationis membri connectent. 
Dein, stylo litera; ad prsedictam cuspidem scriptEC imposito, 
numera i, eoque inde juxta rectae lineae ductum translate 
{ut faciunt astrologi, nominum quibus feriEC appellantur 
rationem assignantes) ad literam oppositam, numera 2. 
Tunc ad alteram linese, tan^uam continuata esset per 
annulum intermedium extremitatem pergens, numera 3; 


et sic deinceps, donee litera primae cuspidi adjaceiis re- 
currat. Hinc recta descendens ad cuspidem in convexitate 
interioris circuli terminatam, foramini alterutro adjacenti 
infige stylum. 

Numerus ultimo numeratus indicabit, quot quantitates 
quaesitae, vel (quod idem est) quot aequationes datae fuerint 
in quaestione. Hanim membra priora quantitates ignotae 
altematim sumptse et signo laterali connexae, posteriora 
quantitates cognitse vel incognitse (prout determinant litera 
ad cuspidem internam scripta) qusesitis signo angulari 
alligatae, constituent. Porro a adhibendas quantitatum 
cognitarum species diversas, 5 unam solummodo,/figuras 
numerates 2, 3, 4, &c. x quantitates quaesitas repetendas 
esse indicat. Notandum autem, in cujusque aequationis 
membro posteriore non alias poni quantitates ignotas, 
quam quae in primo membro sequentis aequationis repe- 
riantur. Dicta exemplis clarescent. 

Ponamus itaque stylum occupare foramen stellula insig- 
nitum, cuspisque quam respicit pertinebit ad latus cujus 
signum est +, et ad angulum cujus signum est x, quae 
signa in charta noto, laterale a sinistris sive primum 
deinde angulare. Porro e ad cuspidem scribitur, ad quam 
numero i ; inde (liberum autem est e duabus lineis utrius- 
vis ductum sequi) sinistrorsum pergens offendo a, ad quam 
numero 2; hinc transiens ad z numero 3; inde autem 
transversim eunti denuo obversatur e, litera primae cuspidi 
apposita, ad quam numerans 4, recta descendo ad cuspidem 
interiorem litera d insignitam. Erunt igitur quatuor quanti- 
tates quaesitae in quaestione, quae signo laterali +, alter- 
natim connexae, constituent prima aequationum datarum 
membra. Posteriora vero fient ex quantitatibus ignotis et 
notis (propter d) diversis per signum angulare, nimirum x , 
conjunctis ; ad hunc modum : 

e+y = zc e= F 

y+z=zad y=zF 

z-\-a = e/ z-=? 

Quod si ponamus stylum foramini praecedenti infixum 
esse, quo pacto + laterale directe intuebitur, lineaeque 
sinistrae ductum sequamur, provenient tres quantitates 
investigandae, et cuspis interior habebit literam/. Unde 


numerus aequationum datarum et primonim earundem 
membrorum signa, itemque posteriorum species determi- 
nantur. Sed quoniam in hoc casu cuspis indifferenter 
se habet respectu duorum angulorum adjacentium, idcirco 
eorum signa per vices usurpanda sunt : secundum quas 
conditiones hujusmodi struatur quaestio. 

a-\-e = 2y a= F 

e-\'y = 3— a e = ? 

y-\-a = ^e y=? 

Posito autem stylum sequenti foramini infigi, cuspis 
stylaris in x angulare dirigetur, signaque lateralia + et 
— pariter respiciet. Proinde, si fert animus dextram 
inire semitam, juxta leges pr^missas sequens prodibit 
quaestio : 

a+e=^ey a -=^7 

e-~y = ay e = F 

y-\-a = ae . y = F 

^Notandum autem primo, quod varietatem aliquam in 
signorum et specierum combinationibus praescriptae leges 
admittant. Unde fit, quod cuspide semitaque determinatis, 
diversae oriantur quaestiones. 

Secundo, quod etsi ad primae literae recursum sistendum 
esse supra statuimus, lex tamen ilia pro cujusvis arbitrio 
mutari possit ; ita ut progrediamur donee singulae, a, e, z, 
Xf obversentur, vel aliqua ex iis bis, vel ad aliam quam- 
cunque metam. Sed ad lusum properamus. 

Primum itaque e lusoribus aliquis ad method um jam 
traditam quaestionem sibi formet. Quod et caeteris dein- 
ceps iisdem legibus faciendum est. Porro formatis singu- 
lorum quaestionibus, ad ejus quae sorte obtigit solutionem 
se quisque accingat. Faciat dein unusquisque fractionem, 
cujus numerator sit numerus quantitatum in suo problemate 
quaesitarum, et nominator, numerus graduum sive aequa- 
tionum quas, dum solveretur quaestio, chartis mandabat. 
Penes quem maxima sit fractio, is vincat. 

Proinde, siquando fugitivae quantitates inhiantem elu- 
serint algebristam, is omni victoriae spe excidisse censendus 
est. Neque id prorsus injuria, siquidem potius eligentis 
culpa quam infortunio accidat quaestionem esse indetermi- 

* [Vide Appendicem.] — Author. 


P Quotiescunque inter ludendum deveniatur ad aequa- 
tionem aifectam supra ordinem quadraticum, nihil opus 
erit exegesi numerosa aut constructione per parabolam, 
sufficit si radix incognita mutata specie pro cognita 

Peractis omnium quaestionum solutionibus, quisque 
proximi opus percurrat; ad quod Pellii margines con- 

Quae pignora et mulctas spectant, quisquam ad libitum 
comminiscatur : hsec enim aliis permitto. 

Problemata quod spectat, ilia quidem difficilia non sunt, 
alioqui inepta forent ad lusum; sed ea tamen, quorum 
solutio in ingens lusorum commodum cesserit, dum rectum 
tramitem inire student, dum longos consequentiarum nexus 
animo recolunt, integramque analyseos seriem brevissimo 
conceptu claudere laborant. 

Permitte jam, adolescens optime ut alios paulisper 
alloquar; tibi enim, quem ipsa trahit difficultas, nihil opus 
hortatore. Vos, adolescentes academici, compello, quibus 
inest sagacitas, mentisque vigor et acumen ; tristem vero 
in musaeo solitudinem, duramque eorum qui vulgo audiunt 
Pumps, vitam aversamini, satius inter congerrones, per 
jocum et lusum, ingenium prodere ducentes. Videtis quam 
merus lusus sit algebra, et sors locum habet, et scientia: 
quidni igitur ad tabulam lusoriam accedatis ? Neque enim, 
quod in chartis, scacchis, dominis, &c. usu venit, ut dum 
alii ludunt, alii oscitanter adstent, hie etiam metuatis. 
Nam quotcunque ludendi incesserit libido, iis omnibus 
ludere simul ac studere, adde et nonnullis, lucelli aliquid 
corradere fas est. Ast aliquem audire mihi videor in 
hujusmodi verba erumpentem : Itane vero nos decipi 
posse putas? Non ii sumus, quos ad difficillimam artem 
sudore multo addiscendum, oblata lusus specie, inescare 
liceat. Respondeo, algebram eatenus esse difficilem quan- 
tum ad lusum requiritur: quod si tollas omnem difficul- 
tatem, tollitur simul recreatio omnis ac voluptas. Siquidem 
ludi omnes totidem sunt artes et scientiae; nee aliud est 
inter caeteros et hunc nostrum discrimen, quam quod illi 
praesens solummodo oblectamentum spectent ; ex hoc 
vero, praeter jucundissimum laborem, alii etiam iique 

^ This sentence is not in the 1707 edition. 



uberrimi fnictus percipiantur. Tantum autem abest quod 
hoc in lusus detrimentum cedat, ut is idcirco omnibus 
numeris absolutus jure habeatur, juxta tritum illud poetae, 

* Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci.' 

Sed quinam sunt illi quos praedicas fructus? Hos ut 
enumerem, universa, quaqua patet, mathesis, artescjue 
omnes ac scientiae, quas rem militarem, civilem, et philo- 
sophicam promoventes complectitur, perlustrandae forent. 
Quippe per hasce omnes diffunditur mirifica algebrae vis. 
Eadem apud omnes ars magna, mirabilis, supremus cogni- 
tionis humanae apex, universae matheseos nucleus et clavis, 
imo apud nonneminem scientiarum omnium fundamentum 
audit. Et sane quam difficile esset algebrae limites assig- 
nare, cum philosophiam etiam naturalem et medicinam 
jamdudum invasit, inque dies dissitissima quaeque argu- 
menta aggreditur. Ut alia taceam, in Actis Philosoph. 
No. 257, de certitudine testimoniorum et traditionum 
humanarum algebraica extant theoremata. Et pro certo 
statuendum est, ubicunque datur magis ac minus, ubi- 
cunque ratio aliqua aut proportio invenitur, ibi locum 
habere algebram. 

Verum dixerit fortasse aliquis, se nee mathesin ipsam, 
nee res mathematice tractatas morari. Ut lubet : demus 
hoc voluntati cujuspiam, demus ignorantiae: nimirum ex 
ignorantia rerum praeclarissimarum, quceque vos a barbaris 
dtsttnguunt\ contemptum proficisci affirmare ausim. Estne 
vero quisquam qui ingenium sagax, intellectum capacem, 
judicium acre parvi faciat? Siquis usque adeo rationis 
expers inveniatur, is demum mathesin spernat, quae quanti 
sit momenti ad optimos quosque mentis habitus comparan- 
dos, apud omnes in confesso est. 

* [Vide Tentatnen Anglicum de 
Horiis Epicuri, a Gulielmo Temple, 
Equite Aurato, conscriptum.J — 
Author. The reference to Sir 
William Temple is contained in 
the following sentence : — * More 
than this, I know no advantage 
mankind has gained by the pro- 
gress of natural philosophy, during 
so many ages it has had vogue in 
the world, excepting always and 

very justly what we owe to the 
Mathematics, which is in a manner 
all that seems valuable among the 
civilised nations, more than those 
we call barbarians, whether they 
are so or no, or more so than our- 
selves.* — ^Temple's Essay upon the 
Gardens of Epicurus (1686). Cf. 
Guardian^ No. 130, in which the 
above passage is referred to in 
a similar manner. 



Verulamius alicubi, in iis quae de Augmentis Scientiarum 
conscripsit \ analogiam quandam inter pilae palmariae lusum 
et mathesin notat. Nempe quemadmodum per ilium, ultra 
voluptatem quae primum intenditur, alia eaque potiora 
consequamur, viz. corporis agilitatem et robur, promp- 
tumque oculorum motum: sic disciplinae mathematicae, 

f»raeter fines ac usus singulis proprios, illud etiam col- 
aterale habent, quod mentem a sensibus abstrahant, in- 
geniumque acuant et figant. Idem hoc tam olim veteres, 
quam hodie e modernis cordatiores quique agnoscunt. 
Quod vero recentiorum algebra ad ingenium formandum 
imprimis conducat, inter alios ostendunt Cartesius', et 
prolixe Malebranchius De Inquirenda Veritate, lib. vi. 
part. I. cap. 5. et part. 2. cap. 8. alibique passim*. Et 
regulae quidem quas hie in quaestionum solutione obser- 
vandas tradit, lib. vi. part. 2. cap. i. quaeque tam sunt 
eximiae, ut meliores angelum non fuisse daturum credat 
auctor quidam ingeniosus: illae, inquam, regulae angelicae 
ex algebra desumi videntur. At quid alios memorem, cum 
vir omni laude major, Johannes Lockius, qui singulos 
intellectus humani defectus, eorumque remedia, siquis 
alius, optime callebat, cum universae matheseos, tum prae- 
sertim algebrae studium, omnibus supra plebem positis, 
tanquam rem infiniti usus vehementer commendat ? Vide 
inter Opera ejus Posthuma, pag. 30, 31, 32, &c. Trac- 
tatus de Regimine Intellectus : opus exiguum quidem 

* The passage alluded to is con- 
tained in the Advancement of Learn' 
ingy the earlier work (1605), and 
is not reproduced in the transla- 
tion, in the corresponding passage 
of the De Augmentis (1623). The 
words are these : — * For if the wit 
be too dull, they (Pure Mathe- 
matics) sharpen it ; if too wander- 
ing, they fix it ; if too inherent 
in sense, they abstract it. So that 
as tennis is a game of no use in it- 
self, but of great use in respect it 
maketh a quick eye and a body 
ready to put itself into all pos- 
tures : so in the Mathematics, that 
use which is collateral and inter- 
venient is no less worthy than 
that which is principal and in- 

tended.' Advancement of Learnings 
B. II. But Bacon repeats his 
recommendation of Mathematics, 
especially as an education of the 
power of attention, in the De 
Augmentis t VI. 4, and in the Essay 
on Studies in 1625. 

* See Discours de la fMethodey 
pp. 143-146, in Cousin's edition 
of the works of Descartes. In 
another passage in the same work 
Descartes speaks rather in dispar- 
agement of Algebra. 

^ It may be added that Male- 
branche, in his Recherche, Liv. VI. 
p. ii. ch. 8, alludes to the commen- 
dation of Algebra in Descartes' 
Discours de la Methode. 


illud et imperfectum, sed quod vastis et elaboratis aliorum 
voluminibus jure quisquam praetulerit '. At vero auctor 
magni nominis ad dlsciplinas mathematicas acrem nimis 
meditationem, quaeque homlni generoso et voluptatibus 
studenti minus conveniat, requiri putat. Respondeo, sua- 
dente Lockio, frustra opponi dissidentis Santevremontii -^ 
judicium. Deinde hie ineptus matheseos judex merito 
habeatur, quippe qui, uti ex ejus vita et scriptis plusquam 
verisimile est, eam vix a limine salutarat. Si vero cortex 
durus videatur et exsuccus, quid mirum ? Sed ut dicam 
quod res est ; praestat singulos rem ipsam expertos propria 
sequi judicia. Nee est cur quis ingentes difficultates sibi 
fingat, eo quod vox algebra nescio quid asperum sonat et 
horrificum ; artem enim, quantum ad ludum nq3trum requi- 
ritur, intra breve unius mensis spatium facile quisquam 

Exposita demum lusus et consilii nostri ratione, lectorem 
mathematicum, ut tenues istas studiorum meorum primitias 
candide accipiat, rogo, potiora forsan posthac daturus. 
Impraesentiarum autem me alia distinent studia quae, arida 
satis et jejuna, suavissimam mathesin exceperunt. Tu 
interim, Clarissime Adolescens, banc nugarum rhapsodiam, 
tanquam aliquod mei erga te amoris symbolum, cape, et 

' See Locke's Essay on the Con- and mathematics generally. 

duct of the Understanding, § 7, here ^ Saint Evremond, a French wit 

eulogised. Bacon, Descartes, of the seventeenth century, who 

Malebranche, and Locke are thus came to England in the reign of 

advanced in this paragraph in Charles II, and died there in 1703. 
support of the study of Algebra 


Ut men tern nostram quilibet plenissime assequatur, 
visum est sequentibus paginis omnem in quaestionibus 
Combinationum et Specierum varietatem quam praefatae 
ludendi conditiones patiantur oculis subjicere. 

Notandum autem : Primo, quod sequentes formulae, 
quoad modos combinandi et quantitatum species, non item 
omnes quoad numerum aequationum datarum, ad Cuspides 
respectivas pertinent : saepe enim plures quam tres quanti- 
tates investigandae erunt. 

Secundo, quod ut omnes quaestionum formulae haberi 
possint, metae diversae, prout fieri posse supra monuimus; 
statuendae sunt : alioqui duae tantum ex quatuor classibus 
ad Cuspidem quamcunque pertinebunt. 

Primam dico Cuspidem quae in + laterale dirigitur, 
secundam huic a dextris proximam, atque ita porro. 


IsTA adolescentiae nostrae, obiter tantum proprioque 
marte ad quantulamcunque matheseos scientiam olim enj- 
tentis, conamina in lucem protrusisse sero aliquoties poeni- 
tuit. Quin et poeniteret etiamnum, nisi quod hinc nobile 
par Ingeniorum\ in spem nascentis saeculi succrescentium, 
una propalandi enascatur occasio. Neque enim nos aliunde 
Rempublicam Literariam demereri gloriamur. Atque haec 
quidem ad temeritatis etc. censuram, ut et invidiam, si quam 
mihi forte conflaverim, amoliendum dicta intelligantur. 

^ Young Palliser and young Molyneux. 


Cuspis prtma. 

a-\-e= bxee—bbxyy--bexbb—eyxbb^y 
e-\-y = b—yyxbb^aaxby^bbxya^bbxa 
sy + a=^ bxaa—bbxee—baxbb^aexbb—e 

a + e = bxee^bbxyy^-bexbb—eyxbb—y 

e+y = C'-yyxcc^aaxcy^ccxya-^ccxa 

dy-\-a = dxaa—ddxee—daxdd—aexdd—e 

e+y = S-yyxss-aaxsy-ssxya-ssxa 
/^+a = 4xaa~44X^^— 4«X44— a^X44— ^ 

a+e = exye^yexyy—e 
e+y ^y-^ayxaa—yaxy 
xy+a = axea^eaxee—a 

Cuspis secunda, 

a-\-e = bxebxy 

e-\-y= bxybxa 

sy+a= bxabxe 

a-^-e = bxebxy 

e-\-y = cxycxa 


a^-e = ^xezxy 



a + e = exy 


xy-\-a= axe 

Cuspis tertia. 

a+ea—e= exbyxb 


y-\-ay—a = axbexb 



a+ea—e = exbyxb 

de—ye-^y = yxcaxc 

y+ay—a = axdexd 

a-\-ea—e = ex2yx2 

y+ay^-a = ax^ex^ 

a-\-ea—e = exy 


y-\-ay^a = axe 

Cuspis quaria. 


s e—y=:bxybxa 



de—y^cxy cxa 



/e-y = 3xy3xa 

y—a = 4.xa^xe 

a—e = exy 



Cuspis quinta. 

a—e = exbb-heyxbb-7-ybxee-^bbxyy-i-b 



a — e=:exbb-i-eyxbb-7-ybxee-i-bbxyy-7-b 
y^a = axdd-7-aexdd-^edxaa-^ddxee-rd 

a--e=:ex2 2-i-eyx22-^y2xee-7-b2xyy-i-2 


J/— a = ax44-7-a^X44-r^4xaa-rrf4X^^-f4 





Cuspts sexta. 





^— a = 4^a4-r^a-f4^-r4 




Cuspts septima, 


a — eaxe^e-^bb-i-ey-i-bb-ry 

a— ^ax^=^•T-2 2-^^JV-^2 2^^ 

/^+j/^-j/=j/ -7-33-7- J/a-^33-r a 

J/— ajVxa = a-r44-T-a^-r44-r^ 




F 2 


Cuspis octava. 


axe = e-i-bb-7-ey-^bb-7-y 

jfxa = a-r44-^a^-^44-^^ 



yxa^a-^e e-7-a 

Cuspis nona. 





aX^ = 2 + ^^-r2 2+J^J^-r2^+2 2-r^JV+2 2-^J/ 

AxJ' = 3-^J':K+33■^««+3JV■^33+>'«-^3 3+« 
j;xa = 4+aa-r44+^^-r4^+44-ra^+44-r^ 




Cuspis decima, 

axe = e + by'^b 




axe=^e-\-by + b 


yxa:=a + de+d 





Cuspis undecitna. 

yxay-i-a = a + be+b 

axea-i-e^e + by-^-b 


/e-T-yexy^y+sa + s 


axea-i-e = e+y 



Cuspis duodecima, 

a-^e^b + eb+y 


y-~a = b+ab + e 


de-^y = c-\-yc+a 


j^-ra = 4 + ^4+^ 



Cuspis decima tertia. 


se-i-y^y—bb+ya-bb+ab'-^yy + bb'^aa+b 



a-f ^ = ^ + 2 2 — ^J^ + 2 2— ^2 + ^^ — 2 2+J/^ — 2 

j;-5-a = a+44— a^+44— ^4 + aa— 44+^^— 4 



Cuspis decima quarta. 




a'7-e=b-'eb ye—by—b 
de-7-y=c—yc—ay—ca — c 
y^a = d—ad—ea—de—d 



^-5-a = 4— ^4— ^a— 4^— 4 



y-k-a^ a—ee—a 


Cuspis decima quinta. 


de-\-ye-i-y=^y—ca — €C^yc-'a 

a-r^a + ^ = ^— 2^— 22— ^2— ^ 

fe+y e-^y^y-^a-sS—yS-^ 

a-^ea+e = e—yy^e 



Cuspts decima sexta. 

a + e = e—by'-bb^eb—^y 

a + e = e-by—b b—eb—y 
y^a=a — de—dd—ad—e 

a + ^=^— 2j— 22— ^2— ^ 


jV+a=a— 4^— 44— a 4—^ 




N.B. Est et alia varietas in prioribus aequationum 
membris, ubi signum analyticum reperitur, viz. si Species 

transponamus. E.g. in cuspide quarta adhibitis \y^e 

in duodecima \y-^e 


duplicabuntur qusestiones. 


P Ne quis forte putet quaestiones omnes in ludo nostro 
possibiles a Tabuhs exhiberi, notandum est illas revera 
esse innumeras. Nam metae infinities variari poterunt: 
ex his vero pendet numerus quantitatum in quovis pro- 
blemate qusesitarum, qui proinde pro metarum diversitate 
erit infinite variabilis; unde qusestiones orientur innumera, 
in quarum tamen singulis non aliae servandae sunt methodi 
pro signis, combinationibus, et speciebus determinandis, 
quam quae in solis quaestionibus imparis cujusvis praeter 
unitatem numeri quantitatum quaesitarum, atque adeo in 
Tabulis quas apposuimus exhibeantur.] 

^ This paragraph is not in the 1707 edition. 




First published in 1871 


The Cave of Dunmore is one of the wonders of Kilkenny. It has 
been described by successive travellers. Berkeley's description seems 
to have been written earlier than any other. The next of which I am 
aware is contained in a Tour through Ireland, * by two English gentle- 
men/ published in Dublin in 1748. In the Philosophical Transactions 
for 1773, there is a letter to Dr. Morton, secretary of the Royal Society, 
from Mr. Adam Walker, dated Dublin, April a6, 1771, 'containing an 
account of the Cavern at Dunmore Park, near Kilkenny, in Ireland,' 
in which it is compared with the Derbyshire caverns. Campbell's 
Philosophical Survey of Ireland, a few years later, has a perfunctory 
reference, and Mr. Tighe*s Statistical Survey of the County of Kilkenny 
describes the caves. * An Account of a Visit to the Cave of Dunmore, 
in Co. Kilkenny, with some Remarks on Human Remains found 
therein,' by Dr. Foot, appeared in the Journal of the Historical and 
Archteological Association of Ireland ior January, 1870. Dr. Foot's visit 
was on September 10^ 1869, in company with the Rev. James Graves 
(to whose kindness in this and other investigations concerning Berkeley 
I am indebted) and Mr. Burtchael. The party carried off human bones, 
specimens of the mysterious human remains referred to in this Descrip- 
tion, now deposited in the Museum of the Association. Dr. Foot 
refers those remains to the tenth century, and considers that they 
confirm the statement in the Annals of the Kingdom of Ireland by 
the Four Masters, that, in ' the age of Christ, 928, Godfrey, grandson 
of Imhar, with the foreigners of Athcliath [Dublin] demolished and 
plundered Dearc-Feama [Dunmore Cave], where one thousand persons 
were killed in that year.' ' In the inmost recesses of Dearc-Feama,' 
Dr. Foot adds, ' unmistakeable evidence of the truth of the statement 
that a wholesale massacre was perpetrated there exists, in the osseous 
remains of men, women, and children, which, though not now strewing 
the Cave in the same profusion as they formerly did, may be procured in 
quantities, by disturbing the surface of the floor in a particular place.' 
An engraving of the entrance to the Cave is given in the Dublin Penny 
Journal (1832). 

Berkeley's description of this Cave is written at the end of his 
Commonplace Book, but no date is given. His visit may have been 
made in some of the vacations of his college life. 




There is one of the rarities of this kingdom which, 
though I judge considerable enough to take place amongst 
the rest, yet so it is I neither nnd it described nor so 
much as mentioned by those who are curious in things 
of this nature — I mean the Cave of Dunmore. In default 
therefore of a better, I offer to the world my own account 
of this remarkable place, so far as I shall be able to 
copy it from what I remember either to have seen myself 
or heard from others. 

This cave is distant four miles from Kilkenny and two 
from Dunmore, his grace the Duke of Ormond's country 
house, from whence it has its name. Its mouth or entrance 
is situated in a rising ground, and affords a very dismal 
prospect, being both wide and deep, and on all sides rocky 
and precipitous save one, which is a slope, part whereof 
is fashioned into a path and in some places into steps. 
This as well as the rest of the sides is overrun with elder ^ 
and other shrubs, which add to the horror of the place, 
and make it a suitable habitation for ravens, screech- 
owls, and such like feral birds, which abide in the cavities 
of the rock. 

At the foot of this descent, by an opening which re- 
sembles a wide arched gate, we entered into a spacious 
vault, the bottom whereof is always slabby by reason of 
the continual distillation of rock-water. Here we bad 

* The early name of the Cave cave. The alder tree is called in 
was DeatX'Feartuiy i. e. the alder- Irish. /earn. 


farewell to daylight, which was succeeded by a formidable 
darkness that fills the hollows of this capacious cavern. 
And having, by the help of our candles, spy'd out our way 
towards the left hand\ and not without some difficulty 
clambered over a ruinous heap of huge unwieldy stones, 
we descry'd a farther entrance into the rock, but at some 
distance from the ground. Here nature seemed to have 
made certain round stones jut out of the wall on purpose 
to facilitate our ascent. 

Having gone through this narrow passage we were 
surprised to find ourselves in a vast and spacious hall, 
the floor of which as well as the sides and roof is rock, 
though in some places it be clefl into very frightful chasms, 
yet for the most part is pretty level and coherent ; the 
roof is adorned with a multitude of small round pipes as 
thick as a goose-quill, and, if I misremember not, a foot 
long or thereabouts ; from each of 'em there distils a drop 
of clear water, which, congealing at the bottom, forms a 
round, hard, and white stone. The noise of these falling 
drops being somewhat augmented by the echo of the cave, 
seems to make an agreeable harmony amidst so profound 
a silence. The stones, which I take to be three or four 
inches high (they all seeming much of a bigness), being 
set thick in the pavement make a very odd figure. Here 
is likewise an obelisque of a greyish colour, and (I think) 
about three or four feet high. The drop which formed 
it has ceased, so that it receives no farther increment. 

This cave, in the great variety of its congelations as 
well as in some other respects, seems not a little to re- 
semble one I find described by the name of Les Grottes 
d'Arcy, in a French treatise jDe FOrigine des Fontaines, 
dedicated to the famous Huygenius, and printed at Paris 
in 1678. But I must own that the French cave has much 
the advantage of ours, on account of the art and regularity 
which nature has observed in forming its congelations, 
or else that anonymous French author has infinitely 
surpassed me in strength of fancy ; for, after having given 
a long detail of several things which he says are there 
represented by them, he concludes with these words, 
' Enfin Ton y voit les ressemblances de tout ce qu'on peut 

^ Right hand. Berkeley is wrong as to the direction. 


s'imaginer, soit d'hommes, d'animaux, de poissons, de 

fruits, &c.' : i. e. in short, here you may see whatever you 

can possibly imagine, whether men, beasts, fishes, fruits, 

or anything else. Now, though as much be confidently 

reported and believed of our cave, yet, to speak ingenuously, 

'tis more than I could find to be true : but, on the contrary, 

am mightily tempted to think all that curious imagery is 

chiefly owing to the strength of imagination ; for like as 

we see the clouds so far comply with the fancy of a child, 

as to represent to him trees, horses, men, or whatever 

else he *s pleased to think on, so 'tis no difficult matter for 

men of a strong imagination to fancy the petrified water 

stamped with the impressions of their own brain, when in 

reality it may as well be supposed to resemble one thing 

as another. 

By what has been observed it appears the congelations 
are not all of the same colour ; the pipes look very like 
alum, the stones formed by their drops are white inclining 
to yellow, and the obelisque I mentioned differs from both. 
There is also a quantity of this congealed water that by 
reason of its very white colour and irregular figure at 
some distance resembles a heap of snow; and such at 
first sight I took it to be, much wondering how it came 
there. When we approached it with a light it sparkled 
and cast a lively lustre, and we discerned in its superficies 
a number of small cavities. But the noblest ornament of 
this spacious hall is a huge channelled pillar which, stand- 
ing in the middle, reaches from top to bottom. There is 
in one side of it a cavity that goes by the name of the 
alabaster chair. The congelations which form this column 
are of a yellowish colour, and as to their shape something 
h'ke the pipes of an organ. But organs I find are no 
rarity in places of this nature ; they being to be met not 
only in the cave of Arcy, and that of Antiparos described 
in the same treatise, pp. 279 and 287, but also in one near 
the Firth of Forth in Scotland, mentioned by Sir Robert 
Sibbald in the Philosophical Transactions, No. 222 \ This 

^ This is in a letter from Sir particulars of the Caves and natural 

Robert Sibbald to Dr. Martin history of the Isle of Skye, to 

Lister, published in the Philos. ^ Mr. Martin, my friend, a curious 

Trans, for October, 1696. The gentleman, who was born there.' 

letter refers, by the way, for some This was Murdoch Martin, author 


I look upon to be in all respects by far the greatest pillar 
I ever saw, and believe its pedestal, which is of a dark 
colour and with a glorious sparkling reflects the light of 
a candle, may be as much as three men can well fathom. 

I am concerned that I did not take the dimensions both 
of this lofty pillar and of the other things I endeavour to 
describe. I am sorry I cannot furnish the curious with an 
exact account of the length, breadth, and height of these 
subterraneous chambers, and have reason to think my 
reader has by this time often blamed me for using such 
undetermined expressions as wide, narrow, deep, &c., 
where something more accurate may be looked for. All 
I can say is that I endeavour to give a faithful account 
of this place, so far as I can recollect at the distance of 
almost seven years, and am of opinion this imperfect 
sketch might not be altogether unacceptable to the curious, 
till such time as some one shall have an opportunity of 
giving 'em a more full and accurate description of this 

Here it was I desired one of our company to fire oflF his 
gun ; the sound we heard for a considerable time roll 
through the hollows of the earth, and at length it could 
not so properly be said to cease as go out of our hearing. 
I have been told that a noise thus made in the cave may 
be heard by one walking in the great aisle of St. Canic's 
church in Kilkenny, but know no one who ever made the 
experiment \ 

Having viewed the wonders of this place and not dis- 
covering any further passage, we returned through the 
narrow entrance we came in by. And here I cannot but 
call to mind how two or three dogs we brought along with 
us, not venturing to go any further, stayed behind in the 
outer cavern ; these creatures, seeming to be very much 
amazed at the horrid solitude wherewith they were 
environed, and, as it were to lament their deplorable 
state, set themselves to howl with all their might ; which 
hideous yelling, continued through the sonorous windings 

of the Voyage to St, Kilda (1698), The story is that a piper, who 

who was Berkeley*s travelling strayed into the recesses of the 

companion from Calais to Paris, in Cave, was heard playing under- 

November, 1713. ground, near St. Maiy's church, in 

* The cathedral of St. Canice. Kilkenny. 


of the cave and reverberated from the ambient rocks, 
R^ould undoubtedly have put us in no small consternation 
iad we not known who were the authors of it. By this 
time some of our company thought the^ had seen enough, 
and were very impatient to get out of this dreadful dungeon. 
The rest of us went on through a passage opposite to the 
former, and much of the same wideness, which led us into 
another cave that appeared every way formidably vast ; 
and though the interval of time may have rendered my 
ideas of several things I there saw dim and imperfect, yet 
the dismal solitude, the fearful darkness, and vast silence 
of that stupendous cavern have left lasting impressions 
in my memory. The bottom is in great part strewed 
with huge massive stones, which seem by the violence of 
an earthquake to have been torn from the rock, and the 
menacing brows of the shattered remains, which threaten 
every moment to tumble from the roof, are apt to raise 
terrible apprehensions in the mind of one who beholds 
them over his head. One who visited this place in 
company of some others told me that when they were just 
come out of it they heard a dreadful noise from within, 
which they imputed to the fall of some of those rocky 
fragments. Advancing forward we met with a great white 
congelation set against the side of the cave, which some- 
what resembles a pulpit with a canopy over it, and hard 
by we saw the earth turned up at the entrance of a rabbit- 
hole, and I have heard others affirm that very far in this 
dark and dismal place they have met with fresh rabbits'- 
dung : now to me it seems strange to conceive what these 
little animals can live on, for it passes imagination to think 
they can find the way in and out of the cave, unless they 
can see in the dark. Having gone a little further, we 
were surprised with the agreeable murmur of a rivulet 
falling through the clefts of the rock ; it skims along 
the side of the cave, and may be, as I guess, about six 
feet over; its water is wonderfully cool and pleasant, 
and so very clear that, where I thought it was scarce an 
inch deep, I found myself up to my knees \ This ex- 
cellent water runs but a little way ere the rock gapes 
to swallow it. 

^ I am told that this rivulet has ceased to run. 


But what is most surprising is that the bottom of this 
spring is all overspread with dead men's bones, and for 
how deep I cannot tell. On the brink there lies part of 
a skull, designed as a drinking bowl for those whom either 
thirst or curiosity may prompt to taste of this subterraneous 
fountain ; neither need any one*s niceness be offended on 
account of the bones, for the continual current of the 
water has sufficiently cleansed them from all filth and 

Putrefaction. *Tis likewise reported that there are great 
eaps of dead men*s bones to be seen piled up in the 
remote recesses of this cavern; but what brought them 
thither there *s not the least glimpse of tradition that ever 
I could hear of to inform us. 'Tis true I remember to 
have heard one tell how an old Irishman, who served for 
a guide into the cave, solved him this problem, by saying 
that in days of yore a certain carnivorous beast dwelling 
there was wont furiously to lay about him, and whoever 
were unhappy enough to come in his way hurry them for 
food into that his dreadful den. But this, methinks, has 
not the least show of probability ; for, in the first place, 
Ireland seems the freest country in the world from such 
manslaughtering animals, and, allowing there was some 
such pernicious beast, some anomalous production of this 
country, then, those bones being supposed the relicks of 
devoured men, one might reasonably expect to find 'em 
scattered up and down in all parts of the cave, rather than 
piled up in heaps or gathered together in the water. 
There are who guess that, during the Irish rebellion in 
'41, some Protestants, having sought refuge in this place, 
were there massacred by the Irish. But if it were so, 
methinks we should have something more than bare con- 
jecture to trust to ; both history and tradition could never 
have been silent in it, and the Irishman I just now spoke 
of must certainly have known it, though of him indeed it 
might be said he would be apt to conceal the barbarous 
cruelty of his countrymen. Moreover, 'tis observed the 
deeper bodies are laid in the earth, so as to be sheltered 
from the injuries and change of the weather, they remain 
the longer uncorrupted. But I never heard that they 
who have seen these bones about thirty or forty years ago 
observed any difference in them as to their freshness from 
what they are at present. Who knows but in former 


times this cave served the Irish for the same purpose for 
w^Jiich those artificial caves of Rome and Naples called 
catacombs were intended by the ancients, i.e. was a re- 
pository for their dead ; but still what should move them 
to Jay the bones we saw in the water I cannot possibly 
divine. 'Tis likewise very hard to imagine why they 
H^ere at the pains to drag the corses through long and 
narrow passages, that so they might inter them farther 
in the obscure depths of the cave. Perhaps they thought 
their deceased friends would enjoy a more undisturbed 
security in the innermost chambers of this melancholy 

Proceeding forward we came to a place so low that our 
heads almost touched the top ; a little beyond this we 
were forced to stoop, and soon after creep on our knees. 
Here the roof was thick set with crystal pipes, but they 
had all given over dropping ; they were very brittle, and 
as we crept along we broke 'em off with our hats, which 
rubbed against the roof. On our left hand we saw a ter- 
rible hiatus, that by its black and scaring looks seemed to 
penetrate a great way into the bowels of the earth. And 
here we met with a good quantity of petrified water, in 
which, though folks may fancy they see the representations 
of a great many things, yet I profess I know not what 
more fitly to compare it to than to the blearings of a candle. 
These congelations which stood in our way had almost 
stopped up the passage, so that we were obliged to return. 
I will not deny that there are other passages which by 
a diligent search we might have discovered, or a guide 
acquainted with the place have directed us to. For 'tis 
generally thought no one ever went to the end of this cave, 
but that being sometimes forced to creep through narrow 

fassages, one comes again into great and spacious vaults, 
have heard talk of several persons who are said to have 
taken these subterraneous journeys ; particularly one St. 
Leger, who, having provided a box of torches and victuals 
for himself and his man, is reported to have travelled for 
the space of two or three days in the untrodden paths 
of this horrible cave, and that when his victuals were well- 
nigh spent and half his torches burnt out, he left his sword 
standing in the ground and made haste to return. I have 
also been told that others, having gone a great way, wrote 



their names on a dead man's skull, which they set up for 
a monument at their journey's end. But I will not vouch 
for the truth of these and many other stories I have heard, 
many whereof are apparently fabulous. 

But one thing I am very credibly informed, viz. that out 
of the first cavern whence we entered into the two caves 
I already spoke of, there was formerly a passage into 
a third, which has been stopped up by the fall of such 
pendulous rocks as are above mentioned ; and that, about 
thirty years ago, a grave and inquisitive gentleman of these 
parts, having gone a great way in the said cave, spy'd 
a hole in one side of it, into which, when his man had 
thrust his head in order to discover what sort of a place 
it was, the gentleman was amazed to find him speechless ; 
whereupon he straightway drew him forth, and firing off 
his pistol to put the air in motion, the man, whom the 
stagnating damp had caused to faint, came to himself, and 
told his master he had seen within the hole a huge and 
spacious cavern. This accident discouraged the gentle- 
man from prosecuting his journey for the present, though 
he saw a plain and direct way before his face ; neverthe- 
less he designed to return soon after, and make a diligent 
inquiry into the nature and extent of that mysterious place, 
but was prevented by death. 

After all, I have known some so unreasonable as to 
question whether this cave was not the workmanship of 
men or giants in old time, though it has all the rudeness 
and simplicity of nature, and is much too big for art. Nor 
is there anything so strange or unaccountable in it, con- 
sidering its entrance is in a hill, and the country all 
around it hilly and uneven ; for, from the origin of hills 
and mountains, as it is delivered by Descartes \ and since 
him by our later theorists, 'tis plain they are hollow, and 
include vast caverns ; which is further confirmed by ex- 
perience and observation. 

Soon after I finished the foregoing description of the 
cave, I had it revised by Mr. William Jackson, a curious 
and philosophical young gentleman, who was very lately 
there. He said the account I gave was very agreeable 
to what he himself had seen, and was pleased to allow it 

^ Prindpia, Pars Quarta, cap. 44. 


a greater share of exactness than I durst have claimed 
to it He had with him an ingenious friend, who designed 
to have taken the plan and dimensions of the several 
caverns, and whatever was remarkable in them ; but the 
uneasiness they felt from a stifling heat hindered them 
from staying in the cave so long as was requisite for that 
purpose. This may seem somewhat surprising, especially 
if it be observed that we on the contrary found it extremely 
cool and refreshing. Now, in order to account for this 
alteration, 'tis to be observed those gentlemen felt the 
heat about the beginning of spring, before the influence 
of the sun was powerful enough to open the pores of the 
earth, which as yet were close shut by the cold of the pre- 
ceding winter ; so that those hot streams which are con- 
tinually sent up by the centi*al heat — for that there is 
a central heat all agree, though men differ as to its cause, 
some deriving from an incrusted star, others from the 
nucleus of a comet sunburnt in its perihelium — remained 
pent up in the cavern, not finding room to perspire through 
the uppermost strata of rock and 'earth : whereas I was 
there about a month after the summer solstice, when the 
solar heat had for a long time and in its full strength 
dwelt upon the face of the earth, unlocking its pores and 
thereby yielding a free passage to the ascending streams \ 
Mr. Jackson informed me of another observable [fact] 
that I had not taken notice of, viz. that some of the bones 
which lay in the water were covered over with a stony 
crust ; and Mr. Bindon (so was the other gentleman called) 
told me he met with one that to him seemed petrified 

Before I have done I must crave leave to advertise my 
reader that where, out of compliance with custom, I use 
the terms congelation, petrification, &c., I would not be 
understood to think the stones formed of the droppings 
were made of mere water metamorphosed by any lapidific 
virtue whatever ; being, as to their origin and consistence, 
entirely of the learned Dr. Woodward's opinion, as set 
forth m his Natural History of the Earth^^ pp. 191 and 

* This is not discordant with nomena. 

modem science, and is character- '^ An Essay towards the Natural 

istic of Berkeley, who was fond History of the Earth, With an 

o( speculating about natural phe- Account of the Universal Deluge^ 

G 1 


192, where he takes that kind of stone, by naturalists 
termed stalactites, to be only a concretion of such stony 
particles as are borne along with the water in its passage 
through the rock from whence it distils. 

and of the Effects that it had upon appeared in London in 1695, ^^^ 

the Earth, by John Woodward, the second in 1723. The reference 

M.D., Professor of Physick in here is to the first edition. 
Gresham College. The first edition 




First published in 187 1 


This Discourse was found among the Berkeley 
the possession of the late Archdeacon Rose, and was first 
published in 1871, in my former edition of Berkeley's 
Works. It was written when he was in his twenty-third 
year, and is interesting biographically. As he took 
Deacon's orders only in February, 1709, this Discourse ^ 
delivered more than a year before, may have been of the 
nature of an academical exercise. The Future Life of Man 
is the subject of more than one of his essays in the 
Guardian, and is considered in various parts of the Prin- 
ciples and Alciphron. 



2 Tim. I, lo. 

Jesus Christ, who hath abolished death, and hath brought life and 
immortality to light through the gospel. 

Whether or no the knowledge of eternal life may be 
reckoned among the attainments of some ancient philoso- 
phers, I shall not now inquire. Be that as it will, sure 
I am the doctrine of life and immortality was never so 
current and universal as since the coming of our blessed 
Saviour. For though it be granted, which nevertheless 
is very hard to conceive, that some few of extraordinary 
parts and application might, by the unassisted force of 
reason, have obtained a demonstrative knowledge of that 
important point; yet those who wanted either leisure 
or abilities for making so great and difficult a discovery, 
which was doubtless the far greatest part of mankind, 
must still have remained in the dark: for, though they 
who saw farther than other men should tell them the 
result of their reasonings, yet he that knows not the 
premises could never be certain of the conclusion except 
his teacher had the power of working miracles for his 
conviction. 'Tis therefore evident that, whatever dis- 
coveries of a future state were made by those that diverted 
their thoughts that way, how far soever they might have 
seen, yet all this light was smothered in their own bosoms, 
not a ray to enlighten the rest of mankind till the dawning 
of the Sun of Righteousness, who brought life and immor- 
tality to light by the gospel. In discoursing on which 


words I shall observe the following method : — ist, I shall 
consider what effect this revelation has had on the Chris- 
tian world; 2ndly, I shall inquire how it comes to pass 
that it has no greater effect on our lives and conversations ; 
3rdly, I shall shew by what means it may be rendered 
more effectual. 

As to the ist point, one would think he had not far to 
seek for the effects of so important and universal a reve- 
lation — a revelation of eternal happiness or misery, the 
unavoidable inheritance of every man, delivered by the 
Son of God, confirmed by miracles, and owned by all the 
professors of Christianity. If some among the heathen 
practised good actions on no other view than the temporal 
advantages to civil society; if others were found who 
thought virtue a reward sufficient for itself; if reason and 
experience had long before convinced the world how 
unpleasant and destructive vice had been, as well to its 
votaries as the rest of mankind, what man would not 
embrace a thing in itself so lovely and profitable as virtue, 
when recommended by the glorious reward of life and 
immortality ? what wretch so obdurate and foolish as not 
to shun vice, a thing so hateful and pernicious, when dis- 
couraged therefrom by the additional terrors of eternal 
death and damnation ? Thus might a man think a thorough 
reformation of manners the necessary effect of such a 
doctrine as our Saviour's. He may perhaps imagine that 
men, as soon as their eyes were opened, would quit all 
thoughts of this perishing earth, and extend their views to 
those new-discovered regions of life and immortality. 
Thus, I say, might a man hope and argue with himself. 
But, alas ! upon inquiry all this, I fear, will be found 
frustrated hopes and empty speculation. 

Let us but look a little mto matter of fact. How far, I 
beseech you, do we Christians surpass the old heathen 
Romans in temperance and fortitude, in honour and 
integrity ? Are we less given to pride and avarice, strife 
and faction, than our Pagan ancestors? With us that 
have immortality in view, is not the old doctrine of ' Eat 
and drink, for to-morrow we die,' as much in vogue as 
ever ? We inhabitants of Christendom, enlightened with 
the light of the Gospel, instructed by the Son of God, are 
we such shining examples of peace and virtue to the 


unconverted Gentile world ? and is it less certain than 
wonderful that now, when the fulness of time is come, 
and the light of the Gospel held forth to guide every man 
through piety and virtue into everlasting happiness, — I 
say, is it not equally evident and strange, that at this time 
of day and in these parts of the world men go together by 
the ears about the things of this life, and scramble for 
a little dirt within sight of heaven ? 

I come now to inquire into the cause of this strange 
blindness and infatuation of Christians, whence it is that 
immortality, a happy immortality, has so small influence, 
when the vain, transitory things of this life do so strongly 
affect and engage us in the pursuit of them? Wherein 
consists the wondrous mechanism of our passions, which 
are set a-going by the small inconsiderable objects of 
sense, whilst things of infinite weight and moment are 
altogether ineffectual? Did Heaven but kindle in our 
hearts hopes and desires suitable to so great and excellent 
an object, doubtless all the actions of our lives would evi- 
dently concur to the attainment thereof. One could be no 
longer to seek for the effects of our Saviour's revelation 
amongst us. Whoever beheld a Christian would straight- 
way take him for a pilgrim on earth, walking in the direct 
path to heaven. So regardless should he be of the things 
of this life, so full of the next, and so free from the vice 
and corruption which at present stains our profession. If, 
then, we can discover how it comes to pass that our desire 
of life and immortality is so weak and ineffectual, we shall 
in some measure see into the cause of those many con- 
tradictions which are too conspicuous betwixt the faith 
and practice of Christians, and be able to solve that great 
riddle, namely, that men should think infinite eternal bliss 
within their reach and scarce do anything for the obtaining 
it. Rational desires are vigorous in proportion to the 
g oodnes s and, if I may so speak, attainableness of their 
objects ; for whatever provokes desire does it more or less 
according as it is more or less desirable ; and what makes 
a thing desirable is its goodness or agreeableness to our 
nature, and also the probability there is of our being able 
to obtain it. For that which is apparently out of our 
reach affects us not, desire being a spur to action, and 
no rational agent directing his actions to what he sees 


I impossible. I know a late incomparable philosopher ' will 
I have the present uneasiness the mind feels, which ordi- 
narily is not proportionate to the goodness of the object, 
to determine the will. But I speak not of the ordinary 
brutish appetites of men, but of well-grounded rational 
desires, which, from what has been said, *tis plain are in 
a direct compounded reason of the excellency and cer- 
tainty of their objects. ThuSj an object with half the 
goodness and double the certairify, and another wTtfTKalf 
the certainty and double the goodness, are equally desired ; 
iandjmiyersally those lots are alike esteemed wneremlfie 
; pnze s^re reciprocally ais the chances. Let us nowHSy 
this riile try what value we ought to put on our Saviour's 
promises, with what degree of zeal and desire we should 
in reason pursue those things Jesus Christ has brought to 
light by the Gospel. In order whereunto it will be proper, 
ist, to consider their excellency, and 2dly, the certainty 
there is of our obtaining them upon fulfilling the conditions 
on which they are promised, ist, then, the things pro- 
mised by our Saviour are life and immortality; that is, 
in the language of the Scriptures, eternal happiness, a 
happiness large as our desires, and those desires not 
stinted to the lew objects we at present receive from some 
dull inlets of perception, but proportionate to what our 
faculties shall be when God has given the finishing stroke 
to our nature and made us fit inhabitants for heaven — 
a happiness which we narrow-sighted mortals wretchedly 
point out to ourselves by green meadows, fragrant groves, 
refreshing shades, crystal streams, and what other pleasant 
ideas our fancies can glean up in this vale of misery, but 
in vain; since the Apostle himself, who was caught up 
into the third heaven, could give no other than this empty 
though emphatical description of it : 'tis what * eye hath 
not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the 
heart of man to conceive.' Now, by the foregoing rule, 
the hazard, though never so small and uncertain, of a good 
so ineffably, so inconceivably great, ought to be more 
valued and sought after than the greatest assurance we 
can have of any sublunary good ; since in what proportion 
this good is more certain than that, in as great, nay, in 

^ Locke. See his Essay and my annotations, Bk. II. ch. xxi. §§ 29-41 
(Clarendon Press edition, 1894). 


a much greater proportion that good is more excellent 
than this. 'Twill therefore be needless to inquire nicely 
into the second thing which was to be considered, namely, 
the certainty there is of the prize, which is good enough 
to warrant the la3dng out all our care, industry, and affec- 
tions on the least hazard of obtaining it. 

Whatever effect brutal passion may have on some, or 
thoughtlessness and stupidity on others, yet I believe 
there are none amongst us that do not at least think it 
as probable the Gospel may be true as fake. Sure I am 
no man can say he has two to one odds on the contrary 
side. But when life and immortality are at stake, we 
should play our part with fear and trembling, though 
'twere an hundred to one but we are cheated in the end. 
Nay, if there be any, the least prospect of our winning so 
noble a prize ; and that there is some, none, the beastliest 
libertine or most besotted atheist, can deny. Hence 'tis 
evident that, were our desires of the things brought to 
light through the Gospel such as in strict reason they 
ought to be, nothing could be more vigorous and intense, 
nothing more firm and constant than they; and desire 
producing uneasiness, and uneasiness action in proportion 
to itself, it necessarily follows that we should make life 
and immortality our principal business, directing all our 
thoughts, hopes, and actions that way, and still doing 
something towards so noble a purchase. But since it is 
too evidently otherwise, since the trifling concerns of this 
present life do so far employ us that we can scarce spare 
time to cast an eye on futurity and look beyond the grave, 
'tis a plain consequence that we have not a rational desire 
for the things brought to light by our Saviour, and that 
because we do not exercise our reason about them as we 
do about more trivial concerns. Hence it is the revelation 
of life and immortality has so little effect on our lives and 
conversations ; we never think, we never reason about it. 
Now, why men that can reason well enough about other 
matters, should act the beast and the block so egregiously 
in things of highest importance ; why they should prove so 
deaf and stupid to the repeated calls and promises of God, 
there may, I think, besides the ordinary avocations of the 
world, the flesh, and the devil, be assigned these two 
reasons : ist, we have no determined idea of the pleasures 


of heaven, and therefore they may not so forcibly engage 
us in the contemplation of them ; 2dly, they are the less 
thought on because we imagine them at a great distance. 
As to the ist, 'tis true we can in this life have no deter- 
mined idea of the pleasures of the next, and that because 
of their surpassing, transcendent nature, which is not 
suited to our present weak and narrow faculties. But 
this methinks should suffice, that they shall be excellent 
beyond the compass of our imagination, that they shall 
be such as God, wise, powerful, and good, shall think 
fit to honour and bless his family withal. Would the 
Almighty inspire us with new faculties, and give us 
a taste of those celestial joys, there could be no longer 
living in this world, we could have no relish for the things 
of it, but must languish and pine away with an incessant 
longing after the next. Besides, there could be no virtue, 
no vice ; we should be no longer free agents, but irresistibly 
hurried on to do or suffer anything for the obtaining so 
great felicity. As for the 2d reason assigned for our 
neglect of the life to come, namely, that it appears to be 
at a great distance from us, I own we are very apt to 
think it so, though, for ought that I can see, without any 
reason at all. The world we live in may not unfitly be 
compared to Alexander the Impostor's temple, as described 
by Lucian. It had a fore and a back door, and a continual 
press going in at the one and out at the other, so there 
was little stay for any one to observe what was doing 
within. Just so we see a multitude daily crowding into 
the world and daily going out of it ; we have scarce time 
to look about us, and if we were left every one to his own 
experience, could know very little either of the earth 
itself, or of those things the Almighty has placed thereon, 
so swift is our progress from the womb to the grave ; and 
yet this span of life, this moment of duration, we are 
senseless enough to make account of as if it were longer 
than even eternity itself. But, granting the promised 
happiness be never so far off, and let it appear never so 
small, what then ? Is an object in reality little because 
it appears so at a distance? And I ask, whether 
shall a man make an estimate of things by what they 
really are in themselves, or by what they only appear 
to be? 


I come now to the third and last thing proposed, namely, 
to shew how our Saviour's revelation of life and immor- 
tality may come to have a greater effect on our lives and 
conversations. Had we but a longing desire for the things 
brought to light by the Gospel, it would undoubtedly shew 
itselfin our lives, and we should thirst after righteousness 
as the hart panteth after the water brooks. Now, to beget 
in ourselves this zeal and uneasiness for life and immor- 
tality, we need only, as has been already made out, cast 
an eye on them, think and reason about them with some 
degree of attention. Let any man but open his eyes and 
behold the two roads before him — the one leading through 
the straight, peaceful paths of piety and virtue to eternal 
life ; the other deformed with all the crookedness of vice, 
and ending in everlasting death, — I say, let a man but look 
before him and view them both with a reasonable care, 
and then choose which he will. A man taking such a 
course cannot be mistaken in his choice ; and is not this 
a small thing to weigh and ponder a little the proffers of 
the Almighty ? Would any one propose to us a bargain 
that carried with it some prospect of worldly advantage, 
we should without doubt think it worth our consideration ; 
and when the eternal God makes us an offer of happiness, 
boundless as our desires and lasting as our immortal 
souls, — when He dispatches His well-beloved Son on this 
momentous message, shall we remain stupid and inatten- 
tive; and must it be said to our reproach that life and 
immortality are pearls before swine ? 'Tis true most 
people have a peculiar aversion for thinking, but especially 
to trouble one's head about another life is much out of 
fashion. The world to come takes up little of our thoughts 
and less of our conversation. Wealth, pleasure, and pre- 
ferment make the great business of our lives ; and wc 
stand on all sides exposed to the solicitations of sense, 
which never fail to draw off our thoughts from remote 
goods. But be it never so unfashionable, be it never 
so painful and laborious a task, he that will enjoy heaven 
in the next life must think on it in this; he must break 
through the encumbrances of sense and pleasure some- 
times to have a serious thought of eternity, and cast an 
eye on the recompense of reward. In short, he that is 
not resolved to walk blindfold down to hell must look 


about him betimes, while he stands upon firm ground, and 
from off this present world take a prospect of the next, 
in comparison of which the whole earth and all contained 
therein is, in the elegant style of a prophet, no more than 
the drop of a bucket, the dust of a balance, yea less than 

Grant, we beseech thee, Almighty God, that the words 
which we have heard this day with our outward ears may, 
through Thy grace, be so grafted inwardly in our hearts, 
that they may bring forth in us the fruit of good living, 
to the honour and praise of Thy Name ; through Jesus 
Christ our Lord. 

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of 
God, and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost, be with us 
all evermore. 







^ Ncc vero aut per Senatum aut per Populum salvi hac Lege possumus.' 

Cicero, Fragment, de Repub, 

First published in 1712 




The first two editions of this Discourse appeared in 
London in 1712, 'printed for H. Clements, at the Half- 
Moon in St. Paul's Church-yard.* A third edition followed 
in 1 7 13, adding sect. 53, and the note appended to sect. 48. 

The Discourse on Passive Obedience is the fullest exposi- 
tion Berkeley has given of his ethical theory, as held when 
he was twenty-seven years of age. It takes the form of 
a disquisition on the ethics of civil government, which the 
author says originally 'made three discourses,' delivered 
in the chapel of Trinity College, Dublin, given afterwards 
to the world ' in the form of one entire Discourse.' 

The tract is interesting, as an exposition of Berke- 
ley's general ethical principles, besides being a reasoned 
defence of the special duty of loyalty to civil government 
as opposed to rebellion. By ' passive obedience ' he means 
patient submission to whatever penalties the governing 
power has annexed to the neglect or transgression of its 
laws, in those cases in which actual performance of what 
is enjoined is believed by the governed to be inconsistent 
with reason and conscience (sect. 3). 

He begins by taking for granted that self-regard is 
the supreme motive of human conduct: we call actions 


98 editor's preface to the 

good or evil as they are adapted or not to make us happy. 
But for distinguishing goodness or happiness that is real 
from transitory pleasures we must refer actions abso- 
lutely to principles that are immutable — to universal Law. 
Now it is a truth 'immediately evident by the light of 
nature, that there is a sovereign, omniscient Spirit, who 
alone can make us for ever happy, or for ever miser- 
able ' (sect. 6). So the eternal laws of the universe must 
at last be referred to the eternal constitution of God, in 
other words, to Moral Law, vivified or personified. And 
as God is thus absolute goodness, the universal laws must 
have for their end the highest good of men ; who are there- 
fore bound in reason to conform their actions to them. 
Because God is perfectly good, the well-being of all men 
must be that which He designs should be procured by 
the concurrent actions of each man. Self-regard and 
philanthropy are reconciled through God. 

Now, nten can be supposed to concur in one or other 
of jtwo ways, viz. either by calculating all the consequences 
of each action which they are moved to perform, or by 
conforming their actions to rules that are eternal and 
immutable. The first of these ways is impossible, for it 
transcends finite intelligence and humUn experience. The 
ends to which God requires our concurrence can, there- 
fore, be reached only by the application of universal rules 
which have a necessary tendency to promote the well- 
being of mankind, taking in all men from the beginning 
to the end of the world. 

The special duty of ' passive obedience,' or unresisting 
submission to the penalties of disobedience, is deduced 
by Berkeley from these general principles, and then vindi- 
cated against objections. Loyalty is proposed as an im- 
mutable moral duty, and active rebellion is argued against 
as resistance to the eternal laws of nature or God. Sub- 
mission would rest on a precarious foundation, unless it 
were supported by the conviction that civil authority is 


divine, and the organisation of society a providential 

The Discourse was published, we are told, in order 
to dispel 'false accounts* of three discourses delivered 
in Trinity College. That it did not at first succeed in 
dissipating suspicions we learn from Bishop Stock, who 
tells US that, 'in 1712, the principles inculcated in Mr. 
Locke's Two Treatises on Government seem to have turned 
Berkeleys attention to the doctrine of Passive Obedi- 
ence ; in support of which he printed the substance of three 
Commonplaces, delivered by him that year in the College- 
chapel, a work which afterwards had nearly done him 
some injury in his fortune. For, being presented by 
Mr. Molyneux to their late Majesties, then Prince and 
Princess of Wales \ he was then recommended to Lord 
Galway for some preferment in the Church of Ireland. 
But Lord Galway, having heard of these discourses, re- 
presented him as a Jacobite; an impression which Mr. 
Molyneux took care to remove from the minds of their 
Highnesses, by producing the work in question, and shew- 
ing that it contained nothing but principles of loyalty to 
the present happy establishment.' Yet after this, in June, 
1716, Charles Bering, Lord Percival's cousin, writes from 
Dublin, that after all that had been done by friends, ' his 
prospects were bad, as the Lords Justices had made a 
strong representation against him ; ' and before the end of 
1716 he left England on his way to Italy. 

In those years ' Passive Obedience ' was associated with 
Jacobitism, and it is not wonderful that the Discourse should 
have raised suspicion. Two years before, Sacheverell had 
preached sermons on non-resistance in St. Paul's, which 
occasioned a trial, raised a hot controversy, and turned 
out a Whig ministry. But Berkeley could not be a party 
politician. He defended passive obedience on grounds 

* Afterwards George II and ley it seems was presented in 
Queen Caroline, to whom Berke- 17 16. 

H 2 


which partisans could not understand ; and his loyalty to 
the House of Hanover was afterwards abundantly proved. 
This Discourse illustrates his disposition to search for the 
grounds of human conduct and duty among the broad 
principles of reason, and not in local and ephemeral 
considerations, while it still leaves room for argument 
about duty in particular cases (sect. 54). In the supreme 
civil power and the social organisation of which it is the 
centre, he sees something deeper than popular caprice 
and Locke's arbitrary contract. Fluctuating desires of 
ill-instructed majorities are not with him the ultimate 
foundation of government; neither is this found in the 
claim of a monarch. Civil Government is a conception 
the roots of which are deeper than monarchy; deeper 
too than republicanism and democracy. 

This Discourse of Berkeley's youth may be compared 
with his Discourse to Magistrates^ which appeared nearly 
a quarter of a century later, with his Letter to the Roman 
Catholics ofCloyne during the Jacobite Rising in 1745, and 
especially with the Second, Third, and Fourth Dialogues 
in Alciphron, 


That an absolute passive obedience ought not to be 
paid any civil power, but that submission to Government 
should be measured and limited by the public good of the 
society; and that therefore subjects may lawfully resist 
the supreme authority, in those cases where the public 
good shall plainly seem to require it ; nay, that it is their 
duty to do so, inasmuch as they are all under an indis- 
pensable obligation to promote the common interest : — 
these and the like notions, which I cannot help thinking 
pernicious to mankind, and repugnant to right reason, 
having of late years been industriously cultivated, and set 
in the most advantageous lights by men of parts and 
learning, it seemed necessary to arm the youth of our 
University against them, and take care they go into the 
world well principled; — I do not mean obstinately pre- 
judiced in favour of a party, but, from an early acquaintance 
with their duty, and the clear rational grounds of it, 
determined to such practices as may speak them good 
Christians and loyal subjects. 

In this view, I made three Discourses not many months 
since in the College-chapel \ which some who heard them 
thought it might be of use to make more public: and, 
indeed, the false accounts that are gone abroad concerning 
them have made it necessary. Accordingly, I now send 
them into the world under the form of one entire Dis- 

To conclude: as in writing these thoughts it was my 
endeavour to preserve that cool and impartial temper 
which becomes every sincere inquirer after truth, so I 
heartily wish they may be read with the same disposition. 

^ [Trinity College, Dublin. ] — Author. 


Romans, chap. xiii. ver. 2. 

* Whosoever resisteth the Power, resisteth the ordinance of God.' 

T. It is not my design to inquire into the particular 
nature of the government and constitution of these king- 
doms ; much less to pretend to determine concerning the 
merits of the different parties now reigning in the state. 
Those topics I profess to lie out of my sphere, and they 
will probably be thought by most men improper to be 
treated of in an audience almost wholly made up of young 
persons, set apart from the business and noise of the 
world, for their more convenient instruction in learning 
and piety. But surely it is in no respect unsuitable to 
the circumstances of this place to inculcate and explain 
every branch of the Law of Nature ; or those virtues and 
duties which are equally binding in every kingdom or 
society of men under heaven. And of this kind I take 
to be that Christian Duty of not resisting the supreme 
Power, implied in my text — 'Whosoever resisteth the 
Power, resisteth the ordinance of God.' 

In treating on which words I shall observe the following 
method : — 

2. First, I shall endeavour to prove that there is an 
absolute unlimited non-resistance, or passive obedience, 
due to the supreme civil power, wherever placed in any 
nation \ 

Secondly, I shall inquire into the grounds and reasons 
of the contrary opinion ^ 

Thirdly, I shall consider the objections drawn from the 
pretended consequences of non-resistance to the supreme 
power ', 

^ Sect. 4-32. ^ Sect. 33-40. " Sect. 41-56. 


In handling these points' I intend not to build. oa^the 
autho rity of _Holy Sc riptur e^ but alto gether on jfie Principles 
gTB^aso n comm on to_all _mankindj and tEatpBecause 
there are some very ration^ and learned men, who, being 
verily persuaded an absolute passive subjection to any 
earthly power is repugnant to right reason, can never 
bring themselves to admit such an interpretation of Holy 
Scripture (however natural and obvious from the words) 
as shall make that a part of Christian religion which seems 
to them in itself manifestly absurd, and destructive of the 
original inherent rights of human nature. 

3. I do not mean to treat of that submission which men 
are, either in duty or prudence, obliged to pay inferior or 
executive powers; neither shall I consider where or in 
what persons the supreme or legislative power is lodged 
in this or that government. Only thus much I shall take 
for granted : that there is in every civil community, some- 
where or other, placed a Supreme Power of making laws, 
and enforcing the observation of them. The fulfilling of 
those laws, either by a punctual performance of what is 
enjoined in them, or, if that be inconsistent with reason 
or conscience, by a patient submission to whatever penalties 
the supreme power hath annexed to the neglect or trans- 
gression of them, is termed loyalty ; as, on the other hand, 
the making use of force and open violence, either to 
withstand the execution of the laws, or ward off the 
penalties appointed by the supreme power, is properly 
named rebellion. 

Now, to make it evident that every degree of rebellion 
is criminal in the subject, I shall, in the first place, endeavour 
to prove that Loyalty is a natural or moral duty; and 
Disloyalty, or Rebellion, in the most strict and proper 
sense, a vice or breach of the law of nature. And, secondly, 
I propose to shew that the prohibitions of vice, or negative 
precepts of the law of nature, as, * Thou shalt not commit 
adultery. Thou shalt not forswear thyself. Thou shalt not 
resist the supreme power,* and the like, ought to be taken 
in a most absolute, necessary, and immutable sense : inso- 

* The three parts into which this made in the college chapel, here 
Discourse is thus divided probably sent into the world as one Dis- 
correspond to the * three discourses course/ 


104 PASSIVE obedience: upon the 

much that the attainment of the greatest good, or deliver- 
ance from the greatest evil, that can befal any man or 
number of men in this life, may not justify the least viola- 
tion of them. 

First then, I am to shew that Loyalty is a moral duty, 
and Disloyalty or Rebellion, in the most strict and proper 
sense, a vice, or breach of the Law of Nature \ 

4. Though it be a point agreed amongst all wise men, 
that there are certain moral rules or laws of nature, which 
carry with them an eternal and indispensable obligation ; 
yet, concerning the proper methods for discovering those 
laws, and distinguishing them from others dependent on 
the humour and discretion of men, there are various 
opinions. Some direct us to look for them in the Divine 
Ideas ; others in the natural inscriptions on the mind : 
some derive them from the authority of learned men, and 
the universal agreement and consent of nations : lastly, 
others hold that they are only to be discovered by the 
deductions of reason. The three first methods must be 
acknowledged to labour under great difficulties; and the 
last has not, that I know, been anywhere distinctly ex- 
plained, or treated of so fully as the importance of the 
subject doth deserve. 

I hope therefore it will be pardoned, if, in a discourse 
of passive obedience, in order to lay the foundation of that 
duty the deeper, we make some inquiry into the origin, 
nature, and obligation of moral duties in general, and the 
criterions whereby they are to be known. 

5. Self-love being a principle of all others the most 
universal, and the most deeply engraven in our hearts, it 
is natural for us to regard things as they are fitted to 
augment or impair our own happiness; and accordingly 
we denominate them good or evil. Our judgment is ever 
employed in distinguishing between these two; and it is 
the whole business of our lives to endeavour, by a proper 
application of our faculties, to procure the one and avoid 
the other. At our first coming into the world, we are 

* Sect 4-25. 


entirely guided by the impressions of sense; sensible] 
pleasure being the infallible characteristic of present good, 
as pain is of evil. But, by degrees, as we grow up in our 
acquaintance with the nature of things, experience in- 
forms us that present good is afterwards often attended ' 
with a greater evil; and, on the other side, that present 
evil is not less frequently the occasion of procuring to us 
a greater future good. Besides, as the nobler faculties of . 
the human soul begin to display themselves, they discover 
to us goods far more excellent than those which affect the 
senses*. Hence an alteration is wrought in our judg- 
ments ; we no longer comply with the first solicitations of 
sense, but stay to consider the remote consequences of an 
action ; what good may be hoped, or what evil feared from 
it, according to the wonted course of things. This obliges 
us frequently to overlook present momentary enjoyments, , 
when they come in competition with greater and more 
lasting goods ; though too far off, or of too refined a nature 
to affect our senses. 

6. But, as the whole Earth and the entire duration of 
those perishing things contained in it is altogether in- 
considerable, or, in the prophet's expressive style, 'less 
than nothing' in respect of Eternity, who sees not that 
every reasonable man ought so to frame his actions as 
that they may most effectually contribute to promote his 
eternal interest ? And, since it is a truth, evident by the 
light of nature, that there is a sovereign omniscient Spirit, 
who alone can make us for ever happy, or for ever' 
miserable; it plainly follows that a conformity to His will, ' 
and not any prospect of temporal advantage, is the sole; 
rule whereby every man who acts up to the principles of; 
reason must govern and square his actions. The same : 
conclusion doth likewise evidently result from the relation 
which God bears to His creatures. God alone is maker 

and preserver of all things. Hejs, therefore, with the'^<'^^ 
most undoubted right, t he great legislator of the world; "^-^^^ 
and mank ind, are, by all the ties of duty, no less than 
mterest, bound to obey His laws . 

7. Hence we should above all things endeavour to trace | 
out the Divine will, or the general design of Providence 
with regard to mankind, and the methods most directly 1 

' Cf. Alciphron^ Dial. I. sect. 14-16 ; II. sect. 13-16. 

. ^A 

io6 PASSIVE obedience: upon the 

tending to the accomplishment of that design. And this 
seems the genuine and proper way for discovering the 
laws of nature. For, laws being rules directive of our 
actions to the end intended by the legislator, in order to 
attain the knowledge of God's laws, we ought first to 
inquire what that end is which He designs should be 
carried on by human actions. Now, as God is a being 
of infinite goodness, it is plain the end He proposes is 
. ^ . good. But, God enjoying in Himself all possible perfec- 
y ^ ition, it follows that it is not His own good, but that of 
|V^ /His creatures. Again, the moral actions of men are 
. v> -N 1 entirely terminated within themselves , so as to have no 
^ ^^ I influence on the other orders ot intelligences or reason- 
able creatures ; the end therefore to be procured by them 
can be no other than the gbod of men. But, as nothing in 
a natural state can entitle one man more than another to 
the favour of God, except only moral goodness; which, 
consisting in a conformity to the laws of God, doth pre- 
suppose the being of such laws, and law ever supposing an 
end, to which it guides our actions — it follows that, ante- 
cedent to the end proposed by God, no distinction can 
be conceived between men : that end therefore itself, or 
general design of Providence, is not determined or limited 
by any respect of persons. It is not therefore the private 
good of this or that man, nation, or age, but the general 
well-being of all men, of all nations, of all ages of the 
world, which God designs should be procured by the 
[concurring actions of each individuaP. 

Having thus discovered the great end to which all moral 
obligations are subordinate, it remains that we inquire 
what methods are necessary for the obtaining that end. 

' 8. The well-being of mankind must necessarily be carried 
!on in one of these two ways : — Either, first, without the 
injunction of any certain universal rules of morality ; only 
;by obliging every one, upon each particular occasion, to 
.consult the public good, and always to do that which 
|to him shall seem, in the present time and circumstances, 
I most to conduce to it: or, secondly, by enjoining the 

* In this and the two preceding sections we have the germs of 
Berkeley's ethical theory. 


observation of some determinate, established laws, which,' 

if universally practised, have, from the nature of things, 

m essential fitness to procure the well-being of mankind ; 

though, in their particular application, they are sometimes, ', 

through untoward accidents, and the perverse irregularity 

of human wills, the occasions of great sufferings and 

misfortunes, it may be, to very many good men. 

Against the former of these methods there lie several 
strong objections. For brevity I shall mention only two : — 

9. First, it will thence follow that the best men, for want 
of judgment, and the wisest, for want of knowing all the 
hidden circumstances and consequences of an action, may 
very often be at a loss how to behave themselves ; which 
they would not be, in case they judged of each action by 
comparing it with some particular precept, rather than 
by examining the good or evil which in that single instance 
it tends to procure : it being far more easy to judge with 
certainty, whether such or such an action be a transgres- 
sion of this or that precept, than whether it will be 
attended with more good or ill consequences. In short, 
to calculate the events of each particular action is im- 
possible ; and, though it were not, would yet take up too 
much time to be of use in the affairs of life. 

Secondly, if that method be observed, it will follow that 
we can have no sure standard to which, comparing the 
actions of another, we may pronounce them good or bad, 
virtues or vices. For, since the measure and rule of every 
good man's actions is supposed to be nothing else but his 
own private disinterested opinion of what makes most for 
the public good at that juncture ; and, since this opinion 
must unavoidably in different men, from their particular 
views and circumstances, be very different : it is impossible 
to know, whether any one instance of parricide or perjury, 
for example, be criminal. The man may have had his 
reasons for it; and that which in me would have been 
a heinous sin may be in him a duty. Every man's par- 
ticular rule is buried in his own breast, invisible to all but 
himself, who therefore can only tell whether he observes 
it or no. And, since that rule is fitted to particular 
occasions, it must ever change as they do : hence it is not 
only various in different men, but in one and the same 
man at different times. 


10. From all which it follows, there can be no harmony 
or agreement between the actions of good men : no 
apparent steadiness or consistency of one man with him- 
self; no adhering to principles: the best actions may be 
condemned, and the most villainous meet with applause. 
In a word, there ensues the most horrible confusion of vice 
and virtue, sin and duty, that can possibly be imagined. 
It follows, therefore, that the great end to which God 
requires the concurrence of human actions must of ne- 
cessity be carried on by the second method proposed, 
namely, the observation of certain, universal, determinate 
rules or moral precepts, which, in their own nature, have 
a necessary tendency to promote the well-being of the sum 
of mankind, taking in all nations and ages, from the 
beginning to the end of the world. 

11. Hence, upon an equal comprehensive survey of the 
general nature, the passions, interests, and mutual respects 
of mankind ; whatsoever practical proposition doth to 
right reason evidently appear to have a necessary con- 
nexion with the Universal well-being included in it, is to 
be looked upon as enjoined by the will of God. For, he 
that willeth the end doth will the necessary means con- 
ducive to that end ; but it hath been shewn that God 
willeth the universal well-being of mankind should be 
promoted by the concurrence of each particular person ; 
therefore, every such practical proposition necessarily 
tending thereto is to be esteemed a decree of God, and is 
consequently a law to man. 

I 12. These propositions are called laws of nature, because 
^ . V they are universal, and do not derive their obligation from 
^ 0^ any civil sanction, but immediately from the Author of 
» \J^ ^\knature himself. They are said to be stamped on the mind, 
■<y ^c' 'to be engraven on the tables of the heart, because they are 
yS^ well known to mankind, and suggested and inculcated by 
<)^* ; conscience. Lastly, they are termed eternal rules of reason, 
^ because they necessarily result from the nature of things, 

I and may be demonstrated by the infallible deductions ot 

reason ^ 

^ Berkeley speaks of * eternal foreign to empirical utilitarianism, 

rules of reason/ and the immuta- His reverence for law, akin to 

bility, universality, and necessity Hooker, appears in these passages, 

of moral distinctions — language But if the criterion of the * eternal 


13. And, notwithstanding that these rules are too often, 
either by the unhappy concurrence of events, or more 
especially by the wickedness of perverse men who will not 
conform to them, made accidental causes of misery to 
those good men who do, yet this doth not vacate their 
obligation : they are ever to be esteemed the fixed un- 
alterable standards of moral good and evil ; no private 
interest, no love of friends, no regard to the public good, 
should make us depart from them. Hence, when any 
doubt arises concerning the morality of an action, it is 
plain this cannot be determined by computing the public 
good which in that particular case it is attended with, but 
only by comparing it with the Eternal Law of Reason. 
He who squares his actions by this rule can never do 
amiss, though thereby he should bring himself to poverty, 
death, or disgrace : no, not though he should involve his 
family, his friends, his country, in all those evils which are 
accounted the greatest and most insupportable to human 
nature. Tenderness and benevolence of temper are often 
motives to the best and greatest actions ; but we must not 
make them the sole rule of our actions : they are passions 
rooted in our nature, and, like all other passions, must be 
restrained and kept under, otherwise they may possibly 
betray us into as great enormities as any other unbridled 
lust. Nay, they are more dangerous than other passions, i 
insomuch as they are more plausible, and apt to dazzle '; 
and corrupt the mind with the appearance of goodness and \ 
generosity \ 

14. For the illustration of what has been said, it will 
not be amiss, if from the moral we turn our eyes on the ' 
natural world. Homo orius est (says Balbus in Cicero ^) ad ' 
mundum contemplandum, et imitandum. And, surely, it is , 
not possible for free intellectu al ajgents to propose a notlef j 
pattern for their imitation than Tlature ; wKFch is nothing \ 

laws ' is their tried tendency to nate part only of the ideal human 

promote general happiness, a door nature, to which our actions should 

is still open to questions of casu- conform. Benevolent motives may 

istry, in the endeavour to determine be springs of actions that contra- 

what they are. diet immutable moral law. 

• So Butler, who regards the ^ {De Natura Deorum, Lib. II. 

benevolent affections as a subordi- § 37.] — Author. 


PASSIVE obedience: upon the 

e lse but a series of free actions, produced by the best and 
wisest Agent \ But, it is evident that those actions are 
Tiot adapted To particular views, but all conformed to 
certain general rules, which, being collected from observa- 
tion, are by philosophers termed laws of nature. And 
these indeed are excellently suited to promote the general 
well-being of the creation: but, what from casual com- 
binations of events ^, and what from the voluntary motions 
of animals ', it often falls out, that the natural good not 
only of private men but of entire cities and nations would 
be better promoted by a particular suspension, or contra- 
diction, than an exact observation of those laws. Yet, for 
all that, nature still takes its course ; nay, it is plain that 
plagues, famines, inundations, earthquakes, with an infinite 
variety of pains and sorrows — in a word, all kinds of 
calamities public and private, do arise from a uniform 
steady observation of those General Laws which are once 
established by the Author of Nature, and which He will 
not change or deviate from upon any of those accounts, 
how wise or benevolent soever it may be thought by 
foolish men to do so*. As for the miracles recorded in 
Scripture, they were always wrought for confirmation of 
some doctrine or mission from God, and not for the sake 
of the particular natural goods, as health or life, which 
some men might have reaped from them ®. From all which 
it seems sufficiently plain that we cannot be at a loss 
which way to determine, in case we think God's own 
methods the properest to obtain His ends, and that it is 
our duty to copy after them, so far as the frailty of our 
nature will permit. 

15. Thus far in general, of the nature and necessity of 

^ In the second clause of this 
sentence we have a glimpse of 
Berkeley's philosophy^ according 
to which the material universe is 
simply a procession of sense-pre- 
sented appearances, which, in 
their uniform and therefore inter- 
pretable co-existences and succes- 
sions, express Reason and Will. 
Cf. Principles 0/ Human Know- 
ledge^ sect. 26-32; Dialogues of 

Hylas and Philonous ; De Motu ; 
Theory 0/ Vision Vindicated passim ; 
Alciphronj Dial. IV; Siris passim. 

^ * casual combinations of events.' 
What are they? What does he 
mean by chance ? 

^ ^ vol un tary motions of animals, ' 
i. e. the issue of free agency. 

* Cf. Principles^ sect 150-54. 

» Cf. Alciphron, Dial. VI, and 
the Sermon before the S. P. G. 


Moral Rules, and the criterion or mark whereby they may 
be known. 

As for the particulars, from the foregoing discourse, the 
principal of them may without much difficulty be deduced. 
It hath been shewn tnat the Law of Nature is a system of 
such rules or precepts as that, if they be all of them, at all 
times, in all places, and by all men observed, they will 
necessarily promote the well-being of mankind, so far as 
it is attainable by human actions. Now, let any one who 
hath the use of reason take but an impartial survey of the 
general frame and circumstances of human nature, and it 
will appear plainly to him that the constant observation of 
truth, for instance, or of justice, and chastity hath a neces- 
sary connexion with their universal well-being ; that, there- 
fore, they are to be esteemed virtues or duties ; and that 
'Thou shalt not forswear thyself,' 'Thou shalt not commit 
adultery,* ' Thou shalt not steal,' are so many unalterable 
moral rules, which to violate in the least degree is vice 
or sin. I say, the agreement of these particular practical 
propositions with the definition or criterion premised doth 
so clearly result from the nature of things, that it were 
a needless digression, in this place, to enlarge upon it. 

And, from the same principle, by the very same reason- 
ing, it follows that Loyalty is a moral virtue, and ' Thou 
shaJt not resist the Supreme Power' a rule or law of 
nature, the least breach whereof hath the inherent stain of 
moral turpitude. 

i6. The miseries inseparable from a state of anarchy 
are easily imagined. So insufficient is the wit or strength 
of any single man, either to avert the evils, or procure the 
blessings of life, and so apt are the wills of different 
persons to contradict and thwart each other, that it is 
absolutely necessary several independent powers be com- 
bined together, under the direction (if I may so speak) of 
one and the same will — I mean the Law of the Society. 
Without this there is no politeness, no order, no peace, 
among men, but the world is one great heap of misery and 
confusion ; the strong as well as the weak, the wise as well 
as the foolish, standing on all sides exposed to all those 
calamities which man can be liable to, in a state where he 
has no other security than the not being possessed of any 
thing which may raise envy or desire in another. A state 


by SO much more ineligible than that of brutes as a rea- 
sonable creature hath a greater reflexion and foresight of 
miseries than they. From all which it plainly follows, 
that Loyalty, or submission to the supreme authority, hath, 
if universally practised in conjunction with all other virtues, 
a necessary connexion with the well-being of the whole 
sum of mankind ; and, by consequence, if the criterion we 
have laid down be true, it is, strictly speaking, a moral 
duty, or branch of natural religion. And, therefore, the 
least degree of Rebellion is, with the utmost strictness and 
propriety, a sin : not only in Christians, but also in those 
who have the light of reason alone for their guide. Nay, 
upon a thorough and impartial view, this submission will, 
I think, appear one of the very first and fundamental laws 
of nature ; inasmuch as it is civil government which ordains 
and marks out the various relations between men, and 
regulates property; thereby giving scope and la3dng a 
foundation for the exercise of all other duties. And, in 
truth, whoever considers the condition of man will scarce 
conceive it possible that the practice of any one moral 
virtue should obtain, in the naked, forlorn state of 

17. But, since it must be confessed that in all cases our 
actions come not within the direction of certain fixed 
moral rules, it may possibly be still questioned, whether 
obedience to the Supreme Power be not one of those 
exempted cases ; and consequently to be regulated by the 
prudence and discretion of every single person rather than 
adjusted to the rule of absolute non-resistance. I shall 
therefore endeavour to make it yet more plain, that 'Thou 
shalt not resist the Supreme Power' is an undoubted 
precept of morality; as will appear from the following 
considerations : — 

First, then, submission to government is a point im- 
portant enough to be established by a moral rule. Things 
of insignificant and trifling concern are, for that very 
reason, exempted from the rules of morality. But govern- 
ment, on which so much depend the peace, order, and 
well-being, of mankind, cannot surely be thought of too 
small importance to be secured and guarded by a moral 
rule. Government, I say, which is itself the principal 
source under heaven of those particular advantages for the 


procurement and conservation whereof several unquestion- 
able moral rules were prescribed to men. 

18. Secondly, obedience to government is a case 
universal enough to fall under the direction of a law of 
nature. Numberless rules there may be for regulating 
affairs of great concernment, at certain junctures, and 
to some particular persons or societies, which, notwith- 
standing, are not to be esteemed moral or natural laws, 
but may be either totally abrogated or dispensed with ; 
because the private ends they were intended to promote 
respect only some particular persons, as engaged in 
relations not founded in the general nature of men ; who, 
on various occasions, and in different postures of things, 
may prosecute their own designs by different measures, as 
in human prudence shall seem convenient. But what 
relation is there more extensive and universal than that of 
subject and law'^ This is confined to no particular age 
or climate, but universally obtains, at all times, and in all 
places, wherever men live in a state exalted above that 
of brutes. It is, therefore, evident that the rule forbidding 
resistance to the Law or Supreme Power is not, upon 
pretence of any defect in point of universality, to be 
excluded from the number of the laws of nature. 

19. Thirdly, there is another consideration which con- 
firms the necessity of admitting this rule for a moral or 
natural law ; namely, because the case it regards is of too 
nice and difficult a nature to be left to the judgment and 
determination of each private person. Some cases there 
are so plain and obvious to judge of that they may safely 
be trusted to the prudence of every reasonable man. But 
in all instances to determine, whether a civil law is fitted 
to promote the public interest ; or whether submission or 
resistance will prove most advantageous in the conse- 
quence ; or when it is that the general good of a nation 
may require an alteration of government, either in its 
form, or in the hands which administer it; — these are 
points too arduous and intricate, and which require too 
great a degree of parts, leisure, and liberal education, as 
well as disinterestedness and thorough knowledge in the 
particular state of a kingdom, for every subject to take 
upon him the determination of them. From which it 
follows that, upon this account also. Non-resistance, which 



in the main, nobody can deny to be a most profitable and 
wholesome duty, ought not to be limited by the judgment 
of private persons to particular occasions, but esteemed 
a most sacred law of nature. 

20. The foregoing arguments do, I think, make it 
manifest, that the precept against Rebellion is on a level 
with other moral rules. Which will yet further appear 
from this fourth and last consideration. It cannot be 
denied that right reason doth require some common stated 
rule or measure, whereby subjects ought to shape their 
submission to the Supreme Power; since any clashing 
or disagreement in this point must unavoidably tend to 
weaken and dissolve the society. And it is unavoidable 
that there should be great clashing, where it is left to the 
breast of each individual to suit his fancy with a different 
measure of obedience. But this common stated measure 
must be either the general precept forbidding resistance, 
or else the public good of the whole nation ; which last, 
though it is allowed to be in itself something certain and 
determinate, yet, forasmuch as men can regulate their 
conduct only by what appears to them, whether in truth it 
be what it appears or no ; and, since the prospects men 
form to themselves of a country's public good are commonly 
as various as its landscapes, which meet the eye in several 
situations : it clearly follows, that to make the public good 
the rule of obedience is, in effect, not to establish any 
determinate, agreed, common measure of loyalty, but to 
leave every subject to the guidance of his own particular 
mutable fancy. 

21. From all which arguments and considerations it is a 
most evident conclusion, that the law prohibiting Rebellion 
is in strict truth a law of nature, universal reason, and 
morality. But to this it will perhaps be objected by some 
that, whatever may be concluded with regard to resistance 
from the tedious deductions of reason, yet there is I know 
not what turpitude and deformity in some actions, which 
at first blush shews them to be vicious ; but they, not 
finding themselves struck with such a sensible and im- 
mediate horror at the thought of Rebellion, cannot think 
it on a level with other crimes against nature. To which 
I answer : — that it is true, there are certain natural 
antipathies implanted in the soul, which are ever the most 



lasting and insurmountable; but, as custom is a second 
nature, whatever aversions are from our early childhood 
continually infused into the mind give it so deep a stain as 
is scarce to be distinguished from natural complexion. 
And, as it doth hence follow, that to make all the inward 
horrors of soul pass for infallible marks of sin were the 
way to establish error and superstition in the world ; so, 
on the other hand, to suppose all actions lawful which are 
unattended with those starts of nature would prove of the 
last dangerous consequence to virtue and morality. For, 
these pertaining to us as men, we must not be directed in 
respect of them by any emotions in our blood and spirits, 
but by the dictates of sober and impartial reason.' And if 
there be any who find they have a less abhorrence of 
Rebellion than of other villanies, all that can be inferred 
from it is, that this part of their duty was not so much 
reflected on, or so early and frequently inculcated into 
their hearts, as it ought to have been. Since without 
question there are other men who have as thorough an 
aversion for that as for any other crime'. 

22. Again, it will probably be objected that submission 
to government differs from moral duties in that it is 
founded in a contract^, which, upon the violation of its 
conditions, doth of course become void, and in such case 
Rebellion is lawful: it hath not therefore the nature of 
a sin or crime, which is in itself absolutely unlawful, arrd 
must be committed on no pretext whatsoever. Now, 
passing over all inquiry and dispute concerning the first 
obscure rise of government, I observe its being founded 
on a contract may be understood in a twofold sense : — 
either, first, that several independent persons, finding the 
insufferable inconvenience of a state of anarchy, where 
every one was governed by his own will, consented and 
agreed together to pay an absolute submission to the 

' [* II disoit ordinaireraent qu'il 
avoit un aussi grand 6loignement 
pour ce p^che la que pour assas- 
siner le monde, ou pour voler sur 
les grands chemins, et qu'enfin il 
n*y avoit rien qui fiit plus contraire 
a son nature!.' He (Mr. Pascal) 
Qsed to say he had as great an 
abhorrence of rebellion as of 

murder, or robbing on the high- 
way, and that there was nothing 
more shocking to his nature. — 
Vide M. Pascal J p. 44.] — Author. 
This is a solitary reference to 
Pascal by Berkeley. 

* Cf. Locke's Treatise on Govern- 
ntenty Bk. II. ch. 8. 

1 2 


decrees of some certain legislative ; which, though some- 
times they may bear hard on the subject, yet must surely 
prove easier to be governed by than the violent humours 
and unsteady opposite wills of a multitude of savages. 
And, in case we admit such a compact to have been the 
original foundation of civil government, it must even on 
that supposition be held sacred and inviolable. 

23. Or, secondly, it is meant that subjects have con- 
tracted with their respective sovereigns or legislators to 
pay, not an absolute, but conditional and limited, sub- 
mission to their laws ; that is, upon condition, and so far 
forth, as the observation of them shall contribute to the 
public good : reserving still to themselves a right of 
superintending the laws, and judging whether they are 
fitted to promote the public good or no; and (in case 
they or any of them think it needful) of resisting the 
higher powers, and changing the whole frame of govern- 
ment by force : which is a right that all mankind, whether 
single persons or societies, have over those that are 
deputed by them. But, in this sense, a contract cannot 
be admitted for the ground and measure of civil obedience, 
except one of these two things be clearly shewn : — either, 
first, that such a contract is an express known part of 
the fundamental constitution of a nation, equally allowed 
and unquestioned by all as the common law of the land ; 
or, secondly, if it be not express, that it is at least 
necessarily implied in the very nature or notion of civil 
polity, which supposes it is a thing manifestly absurd, 
that a number of men should be obliged to live under an 
unlimited subjection to civil law, rather than continue wild 
and independent of each other. But to me it seems most 
evident that neither of those points will ever be proved. 

24. And till they are proved beyond all contradiction, 
the doctrine built upon them ought to be rejected with 
detestation. Since, to represent the higher powers as 
deputies of the people manifestly tends to diminish that 
awe and reverence which all good men should have for 
the laws and government of their country. And to speak 
of a condition, limited loyalty, and I know not what vague 
and undetermined contracts, is a most effectual means 
to loosen the bands of civil society ; than which nothing 
can be of more mischievous consequence to mankind. 


But, after all, if there be any man who either cannot or 
will not see the absurdity and perniciousness of those 
notions, he would, I doubt not, be convinced with a witness, 
in case they should once become current, and every private 
man take it in his head to believe them true, and put them 
in practice. 

25. But there still remains an objection which hath the 
appearance of some strength against what has been said. 
Namely, that, whereas civil polity is a thing entirely of 
human institution, it seems contrary to reason to make 
submission to it part of the law of nature, and not rather 
of the civil law. For, how can it be imagined that nature 
should dictate or prescribe a natural law about a thing 
which depends on the arbitrary humour of men, not only 
as to its kind or form, which is very various and mutable, 
but even as to its existence; there being no where to 
be found a civil government set up by nature. — In answer 
to this, I observe, first, that most moral precepts do pre- 
suppose some voluntary actions, or pacts of men, and 
are nevertheless esteemed laws of nature. Property is 
assigned, the signification of words ascertained, and matri- 
mony contracted, by the agreement and consent of man- 
kind ; and, for all that, it is not doubted whether theft, 
falsehood, and adultery be prohibited by the law of nature. 
Loyalty, therefore, though it should suppose and be the 
result of human institutions, may, for all that, be of 
natural obligation. — I say, secondly, that, notwithstanding 
particular societies are formed by men, and are not in 
all places alike, as things esteemed natural are wont to 
be, yet there is implanted in mankind a natural tendency 
or disposition to a social life. I call it natural^ because 
it is universal, and because it necessarily results from 
the differences which distinguish man from beast ; the 
peculiar wants, appetites, faculties, and capacities of man 
being exactly calculated and framed for such a state, 
insomuch that without it it is impossible he should live 
in a condition in any degree suitable to his nature. And, 
since the bond and cement of society is a submission to 
its laws, it plainly follows that this duty hath an equal 
right with any other to be thought a law of nature. And 
surely that precept which enjoins obedience to civil laws 
cannot itself, with any propriety, be accounted a civil 


law; it must therefore either have no obligation at all 
on the conscience, or, if it hath, it must be derived from 
the universal voice of nature and reason. 

26. And thus the first point proposed seems clearly 
made out : — namely, that Loyalty is a virtue or moral 
duty ; and Disloyalty or Rebellion, in the most strict and 
proper sense, a vice or crime against the law of nature. 


We are now come to the second point, which was to 
I shew ^ that the prohibitions of vice, or negative precepts 
of morality, are to be taken in a most absolute, necessary, 
. and immutable sense ; insomuch that the attainment of 
i the greatest good, or deliverance from the greatest evil, 
I that can befal any man or number of men in this life may 
not justify the least violation of them. — But, in the first 
place, I shall explain the reason of distinguishing between 
positive and negative precepts, the latter only being 
included in this general proposition. Now, the ground 
; of that distinction may be resolved into this: namely, 
i that very often, either through the difficulty or number 
i of moral actions, or their inconsistence with each other, 
' it is not possible for one man to perform several of them 
i at the same time ; whereas it is plainly consistent and 
possible that any man should, at the same time, abstain 
[ from all manner of positive actions whatsoever. Hence it 
comes to pass that prohibitions or negative precepts must 
by every one, in all times and places, be all actually 
observed : whereas those which enjoin the doing of an 
action allow room for human prudence and discretion 
in the execution of them : it is for the most part depending 
on various accidental circumstances; all which ought to 
be considered, and care taken that duties of less moment 
do not interfere with, and hinder the fulfilling of those 
which are more important. And, for this reason, if not 
the positive laws themselves, at least the exercise of 
them, admits of suspension, limitation, and diversity of 
degrees. As to the indispensableness of the negative 
precepts of the law of nature, I shall in its proof offer 
two arguments ; the first from the nature of the thing, 
and the second from the imitation of God in His govern- 
ment of the world. 

^ Sect. 26*32. 


27. First, then, from the nature of the thing it hath 
been already shewn that the great end of morality can 
never be carried on, by leaving each particular person 
to promote the public good in such a manner as he shall 
think most convenient ; without prescribing certain deter- 
minate universal rules, to be the common measure ot 
moral actions. And, if we allow the necessity of these, 
and at the same time think it lawful to transgress them 
whenever the public good shall seem to require it, what 
is this but in words indeed to enjoin the observation of 
moral rules, but in effect to leave every one to be guided 
by his own judgment? Than which nothing can be 
imagined more pernicious and destructive to mankind, 
as hath been already proved. Secondly, this same point 
may be collected from the example set us by the Author 
of Nature, who, as we have above observed*, acts according 
to certain fixed laws; which He will not transgress upon 
the account of accidental evils arising from them. Suppose 
a prince on whose life the welfare of a kingdom depends 
to fall down a precipice, we have no reason to think that 
the universal law of gravitation would be suspended in 
that case. The like may be said of all other laws of 
nature, which we do not find to admit of exceptions on 
particular accounts. 

28. And as, without such a steadiness in nature ^ we 
should soon, instead of this beautiful frame, see nothing 
but a disorderly and confused chaos ; so, if once it become 
current that the moral actions of men are not to be guided 
by certain definite inviolable rules, there will be no longer 
found that beauty, order, and agreement in the system 
of rational beings, or moral world, which will then be 
all covered over with darkness and violence. It is true, 
he who stands close to a palace can hardly make a right 
judgment of the architecture and symmetry of its several 
parts, the nearer ever appearing disproportionably great. 
And, if we have a mind to take a fair prospect of the 
order and general well-being which the inflexible laws 
of nature and morality derive on the world, we must, 
if I may so say, go out of it, and imagine ourselves to be 
distant spectators of all that is transacted and contained 

' Sect. 14. ^ Cf. Principles^ sect. 30-32. 


in it; otherwise we are sure to be deceived by the too 
near view of the little present interests of ourselves, our 
friends, or our country \ 

The right understanding of what hath been said will, 
I think, afford a clear solution to the following dif- 
ficulties : — 

29. First, it may perhaps seem to some that, in con- 
sequence of the foregoing doctrine, men will be left to 
their own private judgments as much as ever. For, first, 
the very being of the laws of nature; secondly, the 
criterion whereby to know them ; and, thirdly, the agree- 
ment of any particular precept with that criterion, are 
all to be discovered by reason and argumentation, in which 
every man doth necessarily judge for himself: hence, 
upon that supposition, there is place for as great con- 
fusion, unsteadiness, and contrariety of opinions and 
actions as upon any other. I answer, that however men 
may differ as to what were most proper and beneficial 
to the public to be done or omitted on particular occasions, 
when they have for the most part narrow and interested 
views; yet, in general conclusions, drawn from an equal 
and enlarged view of things, it is not possible there should 
be so great, if any, disagreement at all amongst candid 
rational inquirers after truth. 

30. Secondly, the most plausible pretence of all against 
the doctrine we have premised, concerning a rigid indis- 
pensable observation of moral rules, is that which is 
founded on the consideration of the public weaP. For, 
since the common good of mankind is confessedly the 
end which God requires should be promoted by the free 
actions of men, it may seem to follow that all good men 
ought ever to have this in view, as the great mark to 
which all their endeavours should be directed : if, there- 
fore, in any particular case, a strict keeping to the moral 
rule shall prove manifestly inconsistent with the public 
good, it may be thought agreeable to the will of God that 
in that case the rule does restrain an honest disinterested 
person from acting fqr that end to which the rule itselt 
was ordained. For, it is an axiom that ' the end is more 

^ Cf. Guardian^ No. 70, 83. 

2 See Locke's Treatise on Government ^ Bk. II. ch. 19. 


excellent than the means/ which, deriving their goodness 
from the end, may not come in competition with it. 

31. In answer to this, let it be observed, that nothing 
is a law merely because it conduceth to the public good, 
but because it is decreed by the will of God, which alone 
can give the sanction of a law of nature to any precept ; 
neither is any thing, how expedient or plausible soever, 
to be esteemed lawful on any other account than its being 
coincident with, or not repugnant to, the laws promul- 
gated by the voice of nature ^nd reason. It must indeed 
be allowed that the rational deduction of those laws is 
founded in the intrinsic tendency they have to promote 
the well-being of mankind, on condition they are univer- 
sally and constantly observed. But, though it afterwards 
comes to pass that they accidentally fail of that end, or 
even promote the contrary ; they are nevertheless binding, 
as hath been already proved. In short, that whole dif-( 
ficulty may be resolved by the following distinction : — 
In framing the general laws of nature, it is granted we 
must be entirely guided by the public good of mankind, 
but not in the ordinary moral actions of our lives. Such 
a rule, if universally observed, hath, from the nature of 
things, a necessary fitness to promote the general well- 
being of mankind : therefore it is a law of nature. This 
is good reasoning. But if we should say, such an action 
doth in this instance produce much good, and no harm 
to mankind ; therefore it is lawful : this were wrong. The 
rule is framed with respect to the good of mankind ; but 
our practice must be always shaped immediately by the 
rule. They who think the public good of a nation to 
be the sole measure of the obedience due to the civil 
power seem not to have considered this distinction. 

32. If it be said that some negative precepts, e.g. ' Thou 
shalt not kill,* do admit of limitation, since otherwise it 
were unlawful for the magistrate, for a soldier in a battle, 

or for a man in his own defence, to kill another ; I answer, . \^ 
when a duty is expressed in too general terms, as in this ^' 
instance, in order to a distinct declaration of it, either 
those terms may be changed for others of a more limited 
sense, as kill for murder] or else, from the general pro- 
position remaining in its full latitude, exceptions may 
be made of those precise cases which, not agreeing with 


the notion of murder, are not prohibited by the law of 
nature. In the former case there is a limitation ; but 
it is only of the signification of a single term, too general 
and improper, by substituting another, more proper and 
particular, in its place. In the latter case there are 
exceptions ; but then they are not from the law of nature, 
but from a more general proposition, which, besides that 
law, includes somewhat more, which must be taken away 
in order to leave the law by itself clear and determinate. 
From neither of which concessions will it follow that any 
negative law of nature is limited to those cases only where 
its particular application promotes the public good, or 
admits all other cases to be excepted from it wherein 
its being actually observed produceth harm to the public. 
But of this I shall have occasion to say more in the 

I have now done with the first head, which was to shew 
that there is an absolute, unlimited, passive obedience 
due to the Supreme Power, wherever placed in any 
nation ; and come to inquire into the grounds and reasons 
of the contrary opinion. Which was the second thing 
proposed ^ 

33. One great principle which the pleaders for resistance 
make the ground-work of their doctrine is, that the law 
of self-preservation is prior to all other engagements, being 
the very first and fundamental law of nature ^ Hence, 
say they, subjects are obliged by nature, and it is their 
duty, to resist the cruel attempts of tyrants, however 
authorised by unjust and bloody laws ; which are nothing 
else but the decrees of men, and consequently must give 
way to those of God or Nature. But perhaps, if we 
narrowly examine this notion, it will not be found so just 
and clear as some men may imagine, or, indeed, as at first 
sight it seems to be. For, we ought to distinguish between 
a twofold signification of the terms law of nature ; which 
words do either denote a rule or precept for the direction 
of the voluntary actions of reasonable agents ; and in that 
sense they imply a duty : or else they are used to signify 
any general rule which we observe to obtain in the works 

* Sect, 33-40. 

'^ So Locke in his Treatise on Government^ e.g. Bk. II. ch. ig. 


of nature, independent of the wills of men ; in which sense 
no duty is implied. And, in this last acceptation, I grant 
it is a general law of nature, that in every animal there 
be implanted a desire of self-preservation ; which, though 
it is the earliest, the deepest, and most lasting of all, 
whether natural or acquired appetites, yet cannot with any 
propriety be termed a moral duty. But if, in the former 
sense of the words, they mean that self-preservation is the 
first and most fundamental law of nature, which therefore 
must take place of all other natural or moral duties, I think 
that assertion to be manifestly false ; for this plain reason, 
because it would thence follow, a man may lawfully com- 
mit any sin whatsoever to preserve his life, than which 
nothing can be more absurd. 

34. It cannot indeed be denied that the law of nature 
restrains us from doing those things which may injure the 
life of any man, and consequently our own. But, not- 
withstanding all that is said of the obligativeness and 
priority of the law of self-preservation, yet, for aught I 
can see, there is no particular law which obliges any man 
to prefer his own temporal good, not even life itself, to 
that of another man, much less to the observation of any 
one moral duty. This is what we are too ready to per- 
form of our own accord ; and there is more need of a law 
to curb and restrain, than there is of one to excite and 
inflame our self-love. 

35. But, secondly, though we should grant the duty ot 
self-preservation to be the first and most necessary of all 
the positive or affirmative laws of nature ; yet, forasmuch as 
it is a maxim allowed by all moralists, that ' evil is never 
to be committed, to the end good may come of it,' it will 
thence plainly follow that no negative precept ought to 
be transgressed for the sake of observing a positive one. 
And therefore, since we have shewn, ' Thou shalt not resist 
the supreme power,' to be a negative law of nature, it is 
a necessary consequence that it may not be transgressed 
under pretence of fulfilling the positive duty of self-pre- 

36. A second erroneous ground of our adversaries, 
whereon they lay a main stress, is that they hold the 
public good of a particular nation to be the measure of the 
obedience due from the subject to the civil power, which 


therefore may be resisted whensoever the public good 
shall verily seem to require it. But this point hath been 
already considered ; and in truth it can give small difficulty 
to whoever understands Loyalty to be on the same foot 
with other moral duties enjoined in negative precepts ; all 
which, though equally calculated to promote the general 
well-being, may not nevertheless be limited or suspended, 
under pretext of giving way to the end, as is plain from 
what hath been premised on that subject. 

37. A third reason which they insist on is to this 
effect: — All civil authority or right is derived originally 
from the people ; but nobody can transfer that to another 
which he hath not himself; therefore, since no man hath 
an absolute unlimited right over his own life, the subject 
cannot transfer such a right to the prince (or supreme 
power), who consequently hath no such unlimited right to 
dispose of the lives of his subjects. In case, therefore, 
a subject resist his prince, who, acting according to law, 
maketh an unjust, though legal, attempt on his life, he 
does him no wrong; since wrong it is not, to prevent 
another from seizing what he hath no right to : whence 
it should seem to follow that, agreeably to reason, the 
prince, or supreme power wheresoever placed, may be 
resisted. Having thus endeavoured to state their argu- 
ment in its clearest light, I make this answer: — First, it 
is granted, no civil power hath an unlimited right to dispose 
of the life of any man. Secondly, in case one man resist 
another invading that which he hath no right to, it is 
granted he doth him no wrong. But, in the third place, 
I deny that it doth thence follow, the supreme power may 
consonantly to reason be resisted ; because that, although 
such resistance wronged not the prince or supreme power 
wheresoever placed, yet it were injurious to the Author ot 
Nature, and a violation of His law, which reason obligeth 
us to transgress upon no account whatsoever, as hath been 

38. A fourth mistake or prejudice which influenceth the 
impugners of non-resistance arises from the natural dread 
of slavery, chains, and fetters, which inspires them with 
an aversion for any thing, which even metaphorically 
comes under those denominations. Hence they cry out 
against us that we would deprive them of their natural 


freedom, that we are making chains for mankind, that we 

are for enslaving them, and the like. But, how harsh 

soever the sentence may appear, yet it is most true, that 

our appetites, even the most natural, as of ease, plenty, 

or Jife itself, must be chained and fettered by the laws of 

nature and reason. This slavery, if they will call it so, 

or subjection of our passions to the immutable decrees of 

reason, though it may be galling to the sensual part or the 

beast, yet sure I am it addeth much to the dignity of that 

which is peculiarly human in our composition. This leads 

me to the fifth fundamental error. 

39. Namely, the mistaking the object of passive obedi- 
ence. We should consider that when a subject endures 
the insolence and oppression of one or more magistrates, 
armed with the supreme civil power, the object of his 
submission is, in strict truth, nothing else but right reason ; 
which is the voice of the Author of Nature. Think not we 
are so senseless as to imagine tyrants cast in a better 
mould than other men : no, they are the worst and vilest 
of men, and for their own sakes have not the least right to 
our obedience. But the laws of God and nature must be 
obeyed ; and our obedience to them is never more accept- 
able and sincere than when it exposeth us to temporal 

40. A sixth false ground of persuasion to those we argue 
against is their not distinguishing between the natures 
of positive and negative duties. For, say they, since our 
adtve obedience to the supreme civil power is acknowledged 
to be limited, why may not our duty of non-resistance be 
thought so too ? The answer is plain : because positive 
and negative moral precepts are not of the same nature ; 
the former admitting such limitations and exceptions as the 
latter are on no account liable to, as hath been already 
proved. It is very possible that a man, in obeying the 
commands of his lawful governors, might transgress some 
law of God contrary to them ; which it is not possible for 
him to do merely by a patient suffering and non-resistance 
for conscience sake. And this furnishes such a satisfactory 
and obvious solution of the fore-mentioned difficulty that 
I am not a little surprised to see it insisted on, by men, 
otherwise, of good sense and reason. And so much for the 
grounds and reasons of the adversaries of non-resistance. 


I now proceed to the third and last thing proposed, 
namely, the consideration of the objections drawn from the 
pretended consequences of non-resistance ^ 

41. First, then, it will be objected that, in consequence 
of that notion, we must believe that God hath, in several 
instances, laid the innocent part of mankind under an 
unavoidable necessity of enduring the greatest sufferings 
and hardships, without any remedy; which is plainly 
inconsistent with the Divine wisdom and goodness: and 
therefore the principle from whence that consequence flows, 

fought not to be admitted as a law of God or nature. In 
answer to which I observe, we must carefully distinguish 
between the necessary and accidental consequences of a 
} moral law. The former kind are those which the law is 
in its own nature calculated to produce, and which have 
'1 an inseparable connexion with the observation of it ; and 
.indeed, if these are bad, we may justly conclude the law 
\to be so too; and consequently not from God. But the 
accidental consequences of a law have no intrinsic natural 
connexion with, nor do they strictly speaking flow from 
its observation, but are the genuine result of something 
foreign and circumstantial, which happens to be joined 
, with it. And these accidental consequences of a very good 
law may nevertheless be very bad ; which badness of theirs 
is to be charged on their own proper and necessary cause, 
and not on the law, which hath no essential tendency to 
produce them. Now, though it must be granted that a 
lawgiver infinitely wise and good will constitute such laws 
for the regulation of human actions as have in their own 
nature a necessary inherent aptness to promote the common 
good of all mankind, and that in the greatest degree that 
the present circumstances and capacities of human nature 
will admit ; yet we deny that the wisdom and goodness of 
the lawgiver are concerned, or may be called in question, 
on account of the particular evils which arise, necessarily 
and properly, from the transgression of some one or more 
good laws, and but accidentally from the observation of 
othefs. But it is plain that the sevetal calamities and 
devastations which oppressive governments bring on the 

' Sect. 41-56. Some of the objections referred to may be found in 


world are not the genuine necessary effects of the law 

that enjoineth a passive subjection to the supreme power, 

neither are they included in the primary intention thereof, 

but spring from avarice, ambition, cruelty, revenge, and 

the like inordinate affections and vices raging in the 

breasts of governors. They may not therefore argue a t 

defect of wisdom or goodness in God's law, but of right- i 

eousness in men. ' 

42. Such is the present state of things, so irregular are 
the wills, and so unrestrained the passions, of men, that 
we every day see manifest breaches and violations of the 
laws of nature, which, being always committed in favour 
of the wicked, must surely be sometimes attended with 
heavy disadvantages and miseries on the part of those 
who by a firm adhesion to His laws endeavour to approve 
themselves in the eyes of their Creator. There are in 
short no rules of morality, not excepting the best, but 
what may subject good men to great sufferings and hard- • 
ships; which necessarily follows from the wickedness of 
those they have to deal with, and but accidently from those 
good rules. And as, on the one hand, it were inconsistent 
with the wisdom of God, by suffering a retaUation of fraud, 
perjury, or the like, on the head of offenders, to punish 
one transgression by another: so, on the other hand, it 
were inconsistent with His justice to leave the good and 
innocent a hopeless sacrifice to the wicked. God there- 
fore hath appointed a day of retribution in another life, 
and in this we have His grace and a good conscience 
for our support. We should not therefore repine at the 
Divine laws, or shew a frowardness or impatience of those 
transient sufferings they accidentally expose us to, which, 
however grating to flesh and blood, will yet seem of small 
moment, if we compare the littleness and fleetingness 
of this present world with the glory and eternity of 
the next\ 

43. From what hath been said, I think it is plain that 
the premised doctrine of non-resistance were safe, though 
the evils incurred thereby should be allowed never so 
great. But perhaps, upon a strict examination, they will 
be found much less than by many they are thought to be. 

* This presupposes the supremacy of distributive justice in the 


The mischievous effects which are charged on that doctrine 
may be reduced to these two points : — First, that it is an 
encouragement for all governors to become tyrants, by the 
prospect it gives them of impunity or non-resistance. 
Secondly, that it renders the oppression and cruelty of 
those who are tyrants more insupportable and violent, by 
cutting off all opposition, and consequently all means of 
redress. I shall consider each of these distinctly. — As to 
the first point, either you will suppose the governors to 
be good or ill men. If they are good, there is no fear of 
their becoming tyrants. And if they are ill men, that is, 
such as postpone the observation to God's laws to the 
satisfying of their own lusts, then it can be no security to 
them that others will rigidly observe those moral precepts 
which they find themselves so prone to transgress. 

44. It is indeed a breach of the law of nature for a 
subject, though under the greatest and most unjust suffer- 
ings, to lift up his hand against the supreme power. But it is 
a more heinous and inexcusable violation of it for the 
persons invested with the supreme power to use that 
power to the ruin and destruction of the people committed 
to their charge. What encouragement therefore can any 
^<T\ man have to think that others will not be pushed on by 

^V^ the strong implanted appetite of self-preservation, to com- 
vT^^^mit a crime, when he himself commits a more brutish and 
^ \^ unnatural crime, perhaps without any provocation at all ? 
r ^ D^*^ Or is it to be imagined that they who daily break God's 
^'""^^ laws, for the sake of some little profit or transient pleasure, 
bo^ \*4 ^^^^ ^^^ ^^ tempted, by the love of property, liberty, or 
-uM ^ life itself, to transgress that single precept which forbids 
\ ^ tr^ resistance to the supreme power ? 

^vf^'^ 45. But it will be demanded — To what purpose then is 
So^ this duty of non-resistance preached, and proved, and 

recommended to our practice, if, in all likelihood, when 
things come to an extremity, men will never observe it ? 
I answer, to the very same purpose that any other duty 
is preached. For, what duty is there which many, too 
many, upon some consideration or other, may not be pre- 
vailed on to transgress? Moralists and divines do not 
preach the duties of nature and religion with a view of 
gaining mankind to a perfect observation of them ; that 
they know is not to be done. But, however, our pains are 


answered, if we can make men less sinners than otherwise 
they would be ; if, by opposing the force of duty to that of 
present interest and passion, we can get the better of some 
temptations, and balance others, while the greatest still 
remain invincible. 

46. But, granting those who are invested with the 
supreme power to have all imaginable security that no cruel 
and barbarous treatment whatever could provoke their sub- 
jects to rebellion, yet I believe it may be justly questioned, 
whether such security would tempt them to more or greater 
actsofcruelty than jealousy, distrust, suspicion, and revenge 
may do in a state less secure. — And so far in consideration 
of the first point, namely, that the doctrine of non-resistance 
is an encouragement for governors to become tyrants. 

47. The second mischievous effect it was charged with 
is, that it renders the oppression and cruelty of those who 
are tyrants more insupportable and violent, by cutting off 
all opposition, and consequently all means of redress. 
But, if things are rightly considered, it will appear that 
redressing the evils of government by force is at best 
a very hazardous attenjpt, and what often puts the public 
in a worse state than it was before. For, either you sup- 
pose the power of the rebels to be but small, and easily 
crushed, and then this is apt to inspire the governors with 
confidence and cruelty. Or, in case you suppose it more 
considerable, so as to be a match for the supreme power 
supported by the public treasure, forts, and armies, and 
that the whole nation is engaged in a civil war; — the 
certain effects of this are, rapine, bloodshed, misery, and 
confusion to all orders and parties of men, greater and 
more insupportable by far than are known under any the 
most absolute and severe tyranny upon earth. And it may 
be that, after much mutual slaughter, the rebellious party 
may prevail. And if they do prevail to destroy the 
government in being, it may be . they will substitute a 
better in its place, or change it into better hands. And 
may not this come to pass without the expense, and toil, 
and blood of war ? Is not the heart of a prince in the 
hand of God ? May He not therefore give him a right 
sense of his duty, or may He not call him out of the world 
by sickness, accident, or the hand of some desperate 




ruflBan, and send a better in his stead ? When I speak as 
of a monarchy, I would be understood to mean all sorts of 
government, wheresoever the supreme power is lodged. 
Upon the whole, I think we may close with the heathen 
philosopher, who thought it the part of a wise man 
never to attempt the change of government by force, 
when it could not be mended without the slaughter and 
banishment of his countrymen : but to sit still, and pray 
for better times \ For, this way may do, and the other 
may not do ; there is uncertainty in both courses. The 
difference is that in the way of rebellion we are sure to 
increase the public calamities, for a time at least, though 
we are not sure of lessening them for the future. 

48. But, though it should be acknowledged that, in the 
main, submission and patience ought to be recommended, 
yet, men will be still apt to demand, whether extraordinary 
cases may not require extraordinary measures ; and there- 
fore, in case the oppression be insupportable, and the 
prospect of deliverance sure, whether rebellion may not 
be allowed of? I answer, by no means. Perjury, or 
breach of faith, may, in some possible cases, bring great 
advantage to a nation, by freeing it from conditions 
inconsistent with its liberty and public welfare. So like- 
wise may adultery, by procuring a domestic heir, prevent 
a kingdom's falling into the hands of a foreign power, 
which would in all probability prove its ruin. Yet, will 
any man say, the extraordinary nature of those cases can 
take away the guilt of perjury and adultery * ? This is 

* [Plato inEpist.vii.J — Author. 
The passage referred to is the follow- 
ing : — Aiy€tv fUv, €l fi^ /eaXSfs awry 
(paivoiro 7ro\iT€V€(T0cUf fl fiiWoi fiiyrt 
HaraioK fpfiVj m4''^ diro0av€i<T0ai 
A^7(wi', fiiav Si irar/xSi iroAiT€<ay 

fl€Ta0o\yS fl^ VpO<T<ffip€lVf 6r€W &V€V 

^vyrjs teal a<f>ay^s dvdpSfv /i^ Swardv 
Xi yiyveffdcu rijv dplarrjVj ^ffvxiay 8i 
dyovra €vx^a0ai roL dyaOd avr^ t€ 
icai T§ ir6\ti, 

' [When I wrote this, I could 
not think any man would avow 
the justifying those crimes on any 
pretext. But I since find that an 
author (supposed the same who 

published the book entitled, The 
Rights of the Christian Church) ^ in 
a Discourse ayncerning Obedience to 
the Supreme Powers^ printed with 
three other discourses at London, 
in the year 1706, chap. iv. p. 28, 
speaking of Divine laws, is not 
ashamed to assert, * There is no 
law which wholly relates to man 
but ceases to oblige, if, upon the 
infinite variety of circumstances 
attending human afiairs, it happens 
to be contrary to the good of man.' 
So that, according to this writer, 
parricide, incest, or breach of faith 
become innocent things, if, in the 



what I will not suppose. But it hath been shewn, that 
rebellion is as truly a crime against nature and reason as 
either of the foregoing ; it may not therefore be justified 
upon any account whatever, any more than they. 

49. What ! must we then submit our necks to the 
sword ? and is there no help, no refuge, against extreme 
tyranny established by law ? In answer to this I say, in 
the first place, it is not to be feared that men in their wits 
should seek the destruction of their people, by such cruel 
and unnatural decrees as some are forward to suppose. 
I say, secondly, that, in case they should, yet most certainly 
the subordinate magistrates may not, nay, they ought not, 
in obedience to those decrees, to act any thing contrary to 
the express laws of God. And, perhaps, all things con- 
sidered, it will be thought that representing this limitation 
of their active obedience, by the laws of God or nature, as 
a duty to the ministers of the supreme power, may prove 
in those extravagant supposed cases no less effectual for 
the peace and safety of a nation than preaching up the 
power of resistance to the people. 

50. Further, it will probably be objected as an absurdity 
in the doctrine of passive obedience, that it enjoineth sub- 
jects a blind implicit submission to the decrees of other 
men ; which is* unbecoming the dignity and freedom ol 
reasonable agents ; who indeed ought to pay obedience to 
their superiors, but it should be a rational obedience, such 
as arises from a knowledge of the equity of their laws, and 
the tendency they have to promote the public good. To 
which I answer, that it is not likely a government should 
suffer much for want of having its laws inspected and 
amended by those who are not legally entitled to a share 

infinite variety of circumstances, 
they should happen to promote (or 
be thought by any private person 
to promote) the public good. 
After what has been already said, 
I hope I need not be at any pains 
to convince the reader of the 
absurdity and perniciousness of 
this notion. I shall only observe, 
that it appears the author was led 
into it by a more than ordinary 
aversion to passive obedience ; 
which put him upon measuring 

or limiting that duty, and, with 
equal reason, all others, by the 
public good, to the entire unhinging 
of all order and morality among 
men. And it must be owned the 
transition was very natural.] — 

This note was added in the 
third edition. The author referred 
to is Matthew Tindal, one of Berke- 
ley's 'minute philosophers.' Cf. 
Theory of Vision Vindicated^ sect, a^ 
5, and notes by Editor. 

K 2, 


in the management of affairs of that nature. And it must 
be confessed the bulk of mankind are by their circum- 
stances and occupations so far unqualified to judge of such 
matters, that they must necessarily pay an implicit defer- 
ence to some or other. And to whom so properly as to 
those invested with the supreme power ? 

51. There is another objection against absolute sub- 
mission, which I should not have mentioned but that 
I find it insisted on by men of so great note as Grotius 
and PufFendorf ^, who think our non-resistance should be 
measured by the intention of those who first framed the 
societ}'. Now, say they, if we suppose the question put 
to them, whether they meant to lay every subject under 
the necessity of choosing death, rather than in any case to 
resist the cruelty of his superiors, it cannot be imagined 
they would answer in the affirmative. For, this were to 
put themselves in a worse condition than that which they 
endeavoured to avoid by entering into society. For, 
although they were before obnoxious to the injuries of 
many, they had nevertheless the power of resisting them. 
But now they are bound, without any opposition at all, to 
endure the greatest injuries from those whom they have 
armed with their own strength. Which is by so much 
worse than the former state, as the undergoing an execu- 
tion is worse than the hazard of a battle. But (passing by 
all other exceptions which this method of arguing may be 
liable to), it is evident that a man had better be exposed 
to the absolute irresistible decrees, even of one single 
person, whose own and posterity's true interest it is to 
preserve him in peace and plenty, and protect him from 
the injuries of all mankind beside, than remain an open 
prey to the rage and avarice of every wicked man upon 
earth, who either exceeds him in strength, or takes him 
at an advantage. The truth of this is confirmed, as well 
by the constant experience of the far greater part of the 
world, as by what we have already observed concerning 
anarchy, and the inconsistence of such a state with that 
manner of life which human nature requires. Hence it 
is plain the objection last mentioned is built on a false 

^ [Grotius De Jure Belli et Pacts y Lib. VII. cap. vii. sect. 7.] — Au- 
Lib. I . chap. iv. sect. 7 ; et Puffen- thor. 
dorf De Jure Natural et Gentium^ 


supposition, viz. That men, by quitting the natural state 
of anarchy for that of absolute non-resisting obedience to 
government, would put themselves in a worse condition 
than they were in before. 

52. The last objection I shall take notice of is, that, in 
pursuance of the premised doctrine, where no exceptions, 
no limitations, are to be allowed of, it should seem to 
follow men were bound to submit, without making any 
opposition, to usurpers, or even madmen, possessed of the 
supreme authority. Which is a notion so absurd, and 
repugnant to common sense, that the foundation on which^^^^_ 

it is built may justly be called in question. Now, in order ^>7^ 'u 
to clear this point, I observe the limitation of moral duties ^«^ 
may be understood in a twofold sense — either, first, as c^ *^ 
a distinction applied to the terms of a proposition, whereby r^' ^ 
that which was expressed before too generally is limited /■ ^/^ 
to a particular acceptation; and this, in truth, is not so ^a<^ 
properly limiting the duty as defining it. Or, secondly, 
it may be understood as a suspending the observation of 
a duty, for avoiding some extraordinary inconvenience, and 
thereby confining it to certain occasions. And in this last 
sense only, we have shewn negative duties not to admit of 
limitation. Having premised this remark, I make the 
following answer to the objection : — namely, that by virtue 
of the duty of non-resistance we are not obliged to submit 
the disposal of our lives and fortunes to the discretion 
either of madmen, or of all those who by craft or violence 
invade the supreme power ; because the object of the sub- 
mission enjoined subjects by the law of nature is, from 
the reason of the thing, manifestly limited so as to exclude 
both the one and the other. Which I shall not go about 
to prove, because I believe nobody has denied it. Nor 
doth the annexing such limits to the object of our 
obedience at all limit the duty itself, in the sense we 
except against. 

53. [In morality the eternal rules of action have the same f 
immutable universal truth with propositions in geometry. 
Neither of them depends on circumstances or accidents, 
being at all times and in all places, without limitation or 
exception, true. ' Thou shalt not resist the supreme civil 
power' is no less constant and unalterable a rule, for 
modelling the behaviour of a subject toward the govern- 


ment, than ' multiply the height by half the base ' is for 
measuring a triangle. And, as it would not be thought to 

I detract from the universality of this mathematical rule that 
it did not exactly measure a field which was not an exact 

. triangle, so ought it not to be thought an argument against 
the universality of the rule prescribing passive obedience, 
that it does not reach a man's practice in all cases where 
a government is unhinged, or the supreme power disputed. 
There must be a triangle, and you must use your senses 
to know this, before there is room for appl3ring your 
mathematical rule. And there must be a civil govern- 
ment, and you must know in whose hands it is lodged, 
before the moral precept takes place. But, where the 
supreme power is ascertained, we should no more doubt 
of our submission to it, than we would doubt of the way 

i to measure a figure we know to be a triangle ^] 

54. In the various changes and fluctuations of govern- 
ment, it is impossible to prevent that controversies should 
sometimes arise concerning the seat of the supreme power. 
And in such cases subjects cannot be denied the liberty of 
judging for themselves, or of taking part with some, and 
opposing others, according to the bist of their judgments; 
all which is consistent with an exact observation of their 
duty, so long as, when the constitution is clear in the 
point, and the object of their submission undoubted, no 
pretext of interest, friends, or the public good, can make 
them depart from it. In short, it is acknowledged that 
the precept enjoining non-resistance is limited to particular 
objects, but not to particular occasions. And in this it is 
like all other moral negative duties, which, considered as 
general propositions, do admit of limitations and restric- 
tions, in order to a distinct definition of the duty ; but 
what is once known to be a duty of that sort can never 
become otherwise by any good or ill effect, circumstance, 
or event whatsoever. And in truth if it were not so, if 
there were no general inflexible rules, but all negative as 
well as positive duties might be dispensed with, and warpt 
to serve particular interests and occasions, there were an 
end of all morality. 

* Section 53 was added in the its strong expression of the abso- 
third edition. It is remarkable for lute immutability of moral rules. 


55. It is therefore evident that, as the observation of 

any other negative moral law is not to be limited to those 

instances only where it may produce good effects, so 

neither is the observation of non-resistance limited in such 

sort as that any man may lawfully transgress it, whensoever 

in his judgment the public good of his particular country 

shall require it. And it is with regard to this limitation 

by the effects that I speak of non-resistance as an absolute, 

unconditioned, unlimited duty. Which must inevitably be 

granted, unless one of these three things can be proved : — 

either, first, that non-resistance is no moral duty: or, 

secondly, that other negative moral duties are limited by 

the effects: or, lastly, that there is something peculiar 

in the nature of non-resistance, which necessarily subjects 

it to such a limitation as no other negative moral duty 

can admit. The contrary to each of which points, if I 

mistake not, hath been clearly made out. 

56. I have now briefly gone through the objections 
drawn from the consequences of non-resistance, which was 
the last general head I proposed to treat of. In handling 
this and the other points, I have endeavoured to be as full 
and clear as the usual length of these discourses would 
permit, and throughout to consider the argument with the 
same indifference as I should any other part of general 
knowledge ; being verily persuaded that men as Christians 
are obliged to the practice of no one moral duty which 
may not abide the severest test of Reason. 


Published in 17 13 


The fourteen Essays in the Guardian which are here 
reprinted are attributed to Berkeley upon evidence which 
seems sufficient. Guardian, Nos. 3, 27, 35, 39, 49, 55, 62, 
70, 77, and 126, are assigned to him by his son, Dr. George 
Berkeley, as well as by the annotators, who add to these 
Nos. 83, 88, 89. No. 69 is claimed for Berkeley in the 
Gentleman's Magazine (1780). These Essays are not in 
any of the editions of his works prior to 1871. They must 
have been written during his stay in London in 17 13, when 
the recommendation of his countrymen Swift and Steele, 
added to the reputation he had already gained as a meta- 
physician, and his personal charm, opened his way socially 
into the English world of letters. 

Their main design was to defend Christian theism 
against ' free-thinkers ' of the day, assumed to be 
materialists or atheists. 





'Quicquid est illud quod sentit, quod sapit, quod vult, quod viget, coeleste 
et divinum est, ob eamque rem, aeternum sic necesse est.' — Cicero. 

^ Whatever that be which thinks, which understands, which wills, which 
acts, it is something celestial and divine, and, upon that account, 
must necessarily be eternal.' 

I AM diverted from the account I was giving the town 
of my particular concerns, by casting my eye upon a 
Treatise which I could not overlook without an inexcusable 
negligence, and want of concern for all the civil as well 
as religious interests of mankind. This piece has for its 
title, A Discourse of Free-thinkingy occasioned by the rise 
and growth of a Sect called Free-thinkers ^, The author 
very methodically enters upon his argument, and says, — 
' By free-thinking I mean the use of the understanding in 
endeavouring to find out the meaning of any proposition 
whatsoever, in considering the nature of the evidence for 
or against it, and in judging of it according to the seeming 
force or weakness of the evidence.' As soon as he has 
delivered this definition, from which one would expect 
he did not design to shew a particular inclination for or 
against any thing before he had considered it, he gives up 
all title to the character of a free-thinker, with the most 
apparent prejudice against a body of men whom of all 

* Guardian^ No. 3, Saturday, 'By Anthony Collins — published 

March 14, 17 13. early in 1713. 


Other a good man would be most careful not to violate, 
I mean men in holy orders. Persons who have devoted 
themselves to the service of God are venerable to all who 
fear Him ; and it is a certain characteristic of a dissolute 
and ungoverned mind, to rail or speak disrespectfully of 
them in general. It is certain that in so great a crowd 
of men some will intrude who are of tempers very unbe- 
coming their function ; but because ambition and avarice 
are sometimes lodged in that bosom which ought to be 
the dwelling of sanctity and devotion, must this unrea- 
sonable author vilify the whole order? He has not taken 
the least care to disguise his being an enemy to the persons 
against whom he writes, nor any where granted that the 
institution of religious men to serve at the altar, and 
instruct such who are not as wise as himself, is at all 
necessary or desirable; but proceeds, without the least 
apology, to undermine their credit, and frustrate their 
labours. Whatever clergymen, in disputes against each 
other, have unguardedly uttered is here recorded in such 
a manner as to affect religion itself, by wresting con- 
cessions to its disadvantage from its own* teachers. 

If this be true, as sure any man that reads the Discourse 
must allow it is, and if religion is the strongest tie of 
human society, in what manner are we to treat this our 
common enemy, who promotes the growth of such a sect 
as he calls Free-thinkers? He that should burn a house, 
and justify the action, by asserting he is a free agent, would 
be more excusable than this author in uttering what he 
has from the right of a Free-thinker. But there are a 
set of dry, joyless, dull fellows, who want capacities and 
talents to make a figure amongst mankind upon benevolent 
and generous principles, that think to surmount their own 
natural meanness, by laying offences in the way of such 
as make it their endeavour to excel upon the received 
maxims and honest arts of life. If it were possible to 
laugh at so melancholy an affair as what hazards salvation, 
it would be no unpleasant inquiry to ask what satisfactions 
they reap, what extraordinary gratification of sense, or 
what delicious libertinism this sect of Free-thinkers enjoy, 
after getting loose of the laws which confine the passions 
of other men ? Would it not be a matter of mirth to find, 
after all, that the heads of this growing sect are sober 


wretches, who prate whole evenings over coffee, and have 
not themselves fire enough to be any further debauchees 
than merely in principle? These sages of iniquity are, 
it seems, themselves only speculatively wicked, and are 
contented that all the abandoned young men of the age 
are kept safe from reflexion by dabbling in their rhap- 
sodies, without tasting the pleasures for which their doc- 
trines leave them unaccountable. Thus do heavy mortals, 
only to gratify a dry pride of heart, give up the interests 
of another world, without enlarging their gratifications in 
this ; but it is certain there are a sort of men that can 
puzzle truth, but cannot enjoy the satisfaction of it. This 
same Free-thinker is a creature unacquainted with the 
emotions which possess great minds when they are turned 
for religion, and it is apparent that he is untouched with 
any such sensation as the rapture of devotion. Whatever 
one of these scorners may think, they certainly want parts 
to be devout ; and a sense of piety towards heaven, as 
well as the sense of any thing else, is lively and warm in 
proportion to the faculties of the head and heart. This 
gentleman may be assured he has not a taste for what he 
pretends to decry, and the poor man is certainly more 
a blockhead than an atheist. I must repeat that he wants 
capacity to relish what true piety is ; and he is as capable 
of writing an heroic poem as making a fervent prater. 
When men are thus low and narrow in their apprehensions 
of things, and at the same time vain, they are naturally led 
to think every thing they do not understand not to be 
understood. Their contradiction to what is urged by 
others is a necessary consequence of their incapacity to 
receive it. The atheistical fellows who appeared the last 
age did not serve the devil for nought, but revelled in 
excesses suitable to their principles; while in these un- 
happy days mischief is done for mischiefs sake. These 
Free-thinkers, who lead the lives of recluse students for 
no other purpose but to disturb the sentiments of other 
men, put me in mind of the monstrous recreation of those 
late wild youths, who, without provocation, had a wanton- 
ness in stabbing and defacing those they met with. When 
such writers as this, who has no spirit but that of malice, 
pretend to inform the age, mohocks and cut-throats may 
well set up for wits and men of pleasure. 


It will be perhaps expected, that I should produce some 
instances of the ill intention of this Free-thinker, to support 
the treatment I here give him. In his 52nd page he 
says : — 

'2ndly. The priests throughout the world differ about 
scriptures, and the authority of scriptures. The Bramins 
have a book of scripture called the Shaster. The Persees 
have their Zundavastao. The Bonzes of China have 
books written by the disciples of Fo-he, whom they call 
the " God and Saviour of the world, who was born to teach 
the way of salvation, and to give satisfaction for all men's 
sins." The Talapoins of Siam have a book of scripture 
written by Sommonocodom, who, the Siamese say, was 
''born of a virgin," and was "the God expected by the 
universe." The Dervises have their Alcoran.' 

I believe there is no one will dispute the author's great 
impartiality in setting down the accounts of these different 
religions. And I think it is pretty evident he delivers 
the matter with an air which betrays that the history of 
' one born of a virgin ' has as much authority with him 
from St. Sommonocodom as from St. Matthew. Thus he 
treats revelation. Then, as to philosophy, he tells you, 
p. 136, Cicero produces this as an instance of a probable 
opinion, — 'that they who study philosophy do not believe 
there are any Gods;' and then, from consideration of 
various notions, he affirms Tully concludes, — ' that there 
ean be nothing after death.' 

As to what he misrepresents of Tully, the short sentence 
on the head of this paper is enough to oppose ; but who 
can have patience to reflect upon the assemblage of impos- 
tures among which our author places the religion of his 
country ? As for my part, I cannot see any possible inter- 
pretation to give this work, but a design to subvert and 
ridicule the authority of Scripture. The peace and tran- 
quillity of the nation, and regards even above those, are so 
much concerned in this matter that it is difficult to express 
sufficient sorrow for the offender, or indignation against 
him. But if ever man deserved to be denied the common 
benefits of air and water, it is the author of A Discourse 
of Free-thinking \ 

* The following letter, signed dian^ No. 9, Saturday, March 21, 
MisathetiSy appeared in the Guar- 1713 : it has been conjectured that 




' Multa putansy sortemque animo miseratus iniquam.' 

ViRG. ^H, 6. V. 332. 

' Struck with compassion of so sad a state/ 

In compassion to those gloomy mortals who by their 
unbelief are rendered incapable of feeling those impressions 
of joy and hope which the celebration of the late glorious 
festival * naturally leaves on the mind of a Christian, I shall 
in this paper endeavour to evince that there are grounds 
to expect a Future State ; without supposing in the reader 
any faith at all, not even the belief of a Deity '. Let the 

it was written by Berkeley, on the 
internal evidence of its second 
paragraph : — referring as it does 
to the preceding Essay, and sug- 
gesting a new argument on the 
same subject : — 

* To the Guardian. 

* March i6. 
' Sir, — By your paper of Satur- 
day last you give the town hopes 
that you will dedicate that day 
to religion. You could not begin 
it better than by warning your 
pupils of the poison vended under 
a pretence to free-thinking. If you 
can spare room in your next 
Saturday's paper for a few lines 
on the same subject, these are at 
your disposal. 

' I happened to be present at 
a public conversation of some of 
the defenders of this Discourse 
of Free- thinkings and others that 
differed from them ; where I had 
the diversion of hearing the same 
man in one breath persuade us to 
freedom of thought, and in the 
next offer to demonstrate that we 
had no freedom in anything. One 
would think men should blush to 
find themselves entangled in a 

greater contradiction than any the 
Discourse ridicules. This principle 
of free fatality or necessary liberty 
is a worthy fundamental of the new 
sect ; and indeed this opinion is 
of an evidence and clearness so 
nearly related to transubstantiation 
that the same genius seems requi- 
site for either. It is fit the world 
should know how far reason 
abandons men that would employ 
it against religion ; which inten- 
tion, I hope, justifies this trouble 

Your hearty well-wisher, 


Berkeley repeatedly alludes in 
his works to his personal know- 
ledge that fatalism or atheism was 
openly avowed in the * free-think- 
ing ' clubs of London. 

^ Guardian^ No. 27, Saturday, 
April II, 1 7 13. 

^ Easter. 

^ But can one have a reasonable 
expectation of any event, either 
during this earthly life or in a 
future one, without a latent faith 
in God, i.e. without (by implica- 
tion) postulating the absolute trust- 


most Steadfast unbeliever open his eyes, and take a survey 
of the sensible world, and then say if there be not a con- 
nexion, and adjustment, and exact and constant order 
discoverable in all the parts of it. Whatever be the cause, 
the thing itself is evident to all our faculties. Look into 
the animal system, the passions, senses, and locomotive 
powers; — is not the like contrivance and propriety observ- 
able in these too? Are they not fitted to certain ends, 
and are they not by nature directed to proper objects ? 

Is it possible then that the smallest bodies should, by 
a management superior to the wit of man, be disposed in 
the most excellent manner agreeable to their respective 
natures ; and yet the spirits or souls of men be neglected, 
or managed by such rules as fall short of man's under- 
standing ? Shall every other passion be rightly placed by 
nature, and shall that appetite of Immortality, natural to 
all mankind, be alone misplaced, or designed to be frus- 
trated ? Shall the industrious application of the inferior 
animal powers in the meanest vocations be answered by 
the ends we propose, and shall not the generous efforts 
of a virtuous mind be rewarded ? In a word, shall the 
corporeal world be all order and harmony, the intellectual 
discord and confusion? He who is bigot enough to 
believe these things must bid adieu to that natural rule 
of 'reasoning from analogy;* must run counter to that 
maxim of common sense, 'That men ought to form their 
judgments of things unexperienced from what they have 

If any thing looks like a recompense of calamitous 
virtue on this side the grave, it is either an assurance 
that thereby we obtain the favour and protection of heaven, 
and shall, whatever befalls us in this, in another life meet 
with a just return ; or else that applause and reputation 
which is thought to attend virtuous actions. The former 
of these, our free-thinkers, out of their singular wisdom 
and benevolence to mankind, endeavour to erase from the 
minds of men. The latter can never be justly distributed 
in this life, where so many ill actions are reputable, and 
so many good actions disesteemed or misinterpreted; 

worthiness, and therefore omni- ception of the character of the 
potent goodness, of the Power uni- Universal Power that determines 
versally at work ? Is it not our con- final trust or distrust in experience ? 


where subtle hypocrisy is placed in the most engaging 
light, and modest virtue lies concealed ; where the heart 
and the soul are hid from the eyes of men, and the eyes 
of men are dimmed and vitiated. Plato's sense in relation 
to this point is contained in his Gorgias, where he intro- 
duces Socrates speaking after this manner : — 

' It was in the reign of Saturn provided by a law, which 
the gods have since continued down to this time, That 
they who had lived virtuously and piously upon earth, 
should after death enjoy a life full of happiness, in certain 
islands appointed for the habitation of the blessed : but 
that such as have lived wickedly should go into the 
receptacle of damned souls, named Tartarus, there to 
suffer the punishments they deserved. But in all the reign 
of Saturn, and in the beginning of the reign of Jove, living 
judges were appointed, by whom each person was judged 
in his life-time in the same day on which he was to die. 
The consequence of which was, that they often passed 
wrong judgments. Pluto, therefore, who presided in Tar- 
tarus, and the guardians of the blessed islands, finding 
that on the other side many unfit persons were sent 
to their respective dominions, complained to Jove, who 
promised to redress the evil. He added, the reason of 
these unjust proceedings are that men are judged in the 
body. Hence many conceal the blemishes and imper- 
fections of their minds by beauty, birth and riches ; not 
to mention that at the time of trial there are crowds of 
witnesses to attest their having lived well. These things 
mislead the judges, who being themselves also of the 
number of the living, are surrounded each with his own 
body, as with a veil thrown over his mind. For the future, 
therefore, it is my intention that men do not come on their 
trial till after death, when they shall appear before the 
judge, disrobed of all their corporeal ornaments. The 
judge himself too shall be a pure unveiled spirit, beholding 
the very soul, the naked soul of the party before him. 
With tms view I have already constituted my sons, Minos 
and Rhadamanthus, judges, who are natives of Asia ; and 
f acus, a native of Europe. These, after death, shall 
hold their court in a certain meadow, from which there 
are two roads, leading the one to Tartarus, the other to 
the islands of "the blessed."' 

bh&kblbt: PRASBK. IV. L 


From this, as from numberless other passages of his 
writings, may be seen Plato's opinion of a Future State. 
A thing therefore in regard to us so comfortable, in itself 
so just and excellent, a thing so agreeable to the analogy 
of nature, and so universally credited by all orders and 
ranks of men, of all nations and ages, what is it that should 
move a few men to reject ? Surely there must be some- 
thing of prejudice in the case. 1 appeal to the secret 
thoughts of a Free-thinker, if he does not argue within 
himself after this manner: — The senses and faculties 
I enjoy at present are visibly designed to repair or preserve 
the body from the injuries it is liable to in its present 
circumstances: but in an eternal state, where no decays 
are to be repaired, no outward injuries to be fenced against, 
where there are no flesh and bones, nerves or blood-vessels, 
there will certainly be none of the senses : and that there 
should be a state of life without the senses is inconceivable. 

But as this manner of reasoning proceeds from a poverty 
of imagination and narrowness of soul in those that use it, 
I shall endeavour to remedy those defects, and open their 
views, by laying before them a case which, being naturally 
possible, may perhaps reconcile them to the belief of what 
is supernaturally revealed. 

Let us suppose a person blind and deaf from his birth, 
who, being grown to man's estate, is, by the dead palsy or 
some other cause, deprived of his feeling, tasting, and 
smelling, and at the same time has the impediment of his 
hearing removed, and the film taken from his eyes. What 
the five senses are to us, that the touch, taste and smell 
were to him. And any other ways of perception, of a more 
refined and extensive nature, were to him as inconceivable 
as to us those are which will one day be adapted to per- 
ceive those things which ' eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, 
neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive.' 
And it would be just as reasonable in him to conclude, 
that the loss of those three senses could not possibly be 
succeeded by any new inlets of perception, as in a modem 
Free-thinker to imagine there can be no state of life and 
perception without the senses he enjoys at present. Let 
us further suppose the same person's eyes, at their first 
opening, to be struck with a great variety of the most gay 
and pleasing objects, and his ears with a melodious consort 


of vocal and instrumental music. Behold him amazed, 
ravished, transported ; and you have some distant repre- 
sentation, some faint and glimmering idea of the ecstatic 
state of the soul in that article in which she emerges from 
this sepulchre of flesh into Life and Immortality. 

N. B. It has been observed by the Christians, that a 
certain ingenious foreigner \ who has published many 
exemplary jests for the use of persons in the article of 
death, was very much out of humour in a late fit of sick- 
ness, till he was in a fair way of recovery. 


* O vitae philosophia dux, virtutis indagatrix ! ' — Cicero. 

* O philosophy, thou guide of life, and discoverer of virtue ! ' 

To Nestor Ironside, Esq. 

'I am a man who has spent great part of that time 
in rambling through foreign countries which young gentle- 
men usually pass at the university; by which course of 
life, although I have acquired no small insight into the 
manners and conversation of men, yet I could not make 
proportionable advances in the way of science and specu- 
lation. In my return through France, as I was one day 
setting forth this my case to a certain gentleman of that 
nation with whom I had contracted a friendship, after 
some pause, he conducted me into his closet, and, opening 
a little amber cabinet, took from thence a small box of 
Snuff, which he said was given him by an uncle of his, 

* M. Deslandes, a French Free- Deslandes is also author of the 

thinker (1690-1757), vv^ho about Literatum Ofium, referred to on 

this time came to live in England. p. 154, and of a Histoire Critique 

His Reflexions sur les Grands de la Philosophies which appeared 

Homnus qui sent mortsen plaisan- in 1741. 

ttmi, was published in London in ^ Guardian, No. 35, Tuesday, 

1713, and translated into English April 21, 1713. 

by Boyer, iindefr the* above title; - - • 


the author of The Voyage to the World of Descartes ; and, 
with many professions of gratitude and affection, made me 
a present of it — telling me at the same time, that he knew 
no readier way to furnish and adorn a mind with know- 
ledge in the arts and sciences than that same Snuff rightly 

' You must know, said he, that Descartes was the first 
who discovered a certain part of the brain, called by 
anatomists the Pineal Gland, to be the immediate receptacle 
of the soul, where she is affected with all sorts of per- 
ceptions, and exerts all her operations by the intercourse 
of the animal spirits which run through the nerves that 
are thence extended to all parts of the body. He added, 
that the same philosopher having considered the body as 
a machine or piece of clockwork, which performed all the 
vital operations without the concurrence of the will, began 
to think a way may be found out for separating the soul 
for some time from the body, without any injury to the 
latter; and that, afler much meditation on that subject, 
the above-mentioned virtuoso composed the Snuff he then 
gave me ; which, if taken in a certain quantity, would not 
fail to disengage my soul from my body. Your soul (con- 
tinued he) being at liberty to transport herself with a 
thought wherever she pleases, may enter into the Pineal 
Gland of the most learned philosopher; and, being so 
placed, become spectator of all the ideas in his mind, 
which would instruct her in a much less time than the 
usual methods. I returned him thanks, and accepted his 
present, and with it a paper of directions. 

'You may imagine it was no small improvement and 
diversion to pass my time in the Pineal Glands of philo- 
sophers, poets, beaux, mathematicians, ladies, and states- 
men. One while, to trace a theorem in mathematics 
through a long labyrinth of intricate turns and subtleties 
of thought; another, to be conscious of the sublime ideas 
and comprehensive views of a philosopher, without any 
fatigue or wasting of my own spirits. Sometimes, to 
wander through perfumed groves, or enamelled meadows, 
in the fancy of a poet : at others, to be present when a 
battle or a storm raged, or a glittering palace rose in 
his imagination ; or to behold the pleasures of a country 
life, the passion of a generous love, or the warmth of 


devotion wrought up to rapture. Or (to use the words 
of a very ingenious author) to 

''Behold the raptures which a writer knows, 
When in his breast a vein of fancy glows, 
Behold his business while he works the mine^ 
Behold his temper when he sees it shine '." 

'These gave me inconceivable pleasure. Nor was it 
an unpleasant entertainment sometimes to descend from 
these sublime and magnificent ideas to the impertinences 
of a beau, the dry schemes of a coffee-house politician, 
or the tender images in the mind of a young lady. And 
as, in order to frame a right idea of human happiness, 
1 thought it expedient to make a trial of the various 
manners wherein men of different pursuits were affected ; 
I one day entered into the Pineal Gland of a certain person 
who seemed very fit to give me an insight into all that 
which constitutes the happiness of him who is called * a man 
of pleasure.* But I found myself not a little disappointed 
in my notion of the pleasures which attend a voluptuary, 
who has shaken off the restraints of reason. 

' His intellectuals, I observed, were grown unserviceable 
by too little use, and his senses were decayed and worn 
out by too much. That perfect inaction of the higher 
powers prevented appetite in prompting him to sensual 
gratifications; and the outrunning natural appetite pro- 
duced a loathing instead of a pleasure. I there beheld the 
intemperate cravings of youth, without the enjoyments of 
it; and the weakness of old age, without its tranquillity. 
When the passions were teazed and roused by some 
powerful object, the effect was, not to delight or sooth the 
mind, but to torture it between the returning extremes of 
appetite and satiety. I saw a wretch racked, at the same 
time, with a painful remembrance of past miscarriages, a 
distaste of the present objects that solicit his senses, and 
a secret dread of futurity. And I could see no manner 
of relief or comfort in the soul of this miserable man, but 
what consisted in preventing his cure, by inflaming his 
passions and suppressing his reason. But, though it must 
be owned he had almost quenched that light which his 

' Essay on the Different Styles of Poetry, It was published anonymously 
in 1713. 


Creator had set up in his soul, yet in spite of all his 
efforts, I observed at certain seasons frequent flashes of 
remorse strike through the gloom, and interrupt that 
satisfaction he enjoyed in hiding his own deformities from 

' I was also present at the original formation or produc- 
tion of a certain book in the mind of a Free-thinker, and, 
believing it may be not unacceptable to let you into the 
secret manner and internal principles by which that phce- 
nomenon was formed, I shall in my next give you an 
account of it. I am, in the mean time, 

' Your most obedient humble servant, 

' Ulysses Cosmopolita.' 

'N.B. Mr. Ironside has lately received out of France 
ten pound avoirdupois weight of this philosophical Snuff, 
and gives notice that he will make use of it, in order to 
distinguish the real from the professed sentiments of all 
persons of eminence in court, city, town, and country.' 



' -^gri somnia.' — Hor. Ars Poet v. 7. 

*A sick man's dreams.' 

My correspondent, who has acquired the faculty of 
entering into other men's thoughts, having, in pursuance 
to a former letter, sent me an account of certain useful 
discoveries he has made by the help of that invention, 
I shall communicate the same to the publick in this paper. 

Mr. Ironside, 

'On the nth day of October, in the year 1712, having 
left my body locked up safe in my study, I repaired to 
the Grecian coffee-house, where, entering into the Pineal 
Gland of a certain eminent Free-thinker, I made directly 
to the highest part of it, which is the seat of the Under- 
standing, expecting to find there a comprehensive know- 

* Guardian^ No. 39, April 25, 1713. 


ledge of all things human and divine ; but, to my no small 
astonishment, I found the place narrower than ordinary, 
insomuch that there was not any room for a miracle, 
prophecy, or separate spirit. 

This obliged me to descend a story lower, into the 

Imagination, which I found larger, indeed, but cold and 

comfortless. I discovered Prejudice in the figure of a 

woman standing in a comer, with her eyes close shut, and 

her fore-fingers stuck in her ears ; many words in a 

confused order, but spoken with great emphasis, issued 

from her mouth. These being condensed by the coldness 

of the place, formed a sort of mist, through which me- 

thought I saw a great castle with a fortification cast round 

it, and a tower adjoining to it that through the windows 

appeared to be filled with racks and halters. Beneath the 

castle I could discern vast dungeons, and all about it lay 

scattered the bones of men. It seemed to be garrisoned 

by certain men in black, of gigantick size, and most terrible 

forms. But, as I drew near, the terror of the appearance 

vanished; and the castle I found to be only a church, 

whose steeple with its clock and bell-ropes was mistaken 

for a tower filled with racks and halters. The terrible 

Giants in black shrunk into a few innocent clergymen. 

The dungeons were turned into vaults designed only for 

the habitation of the dead ; and the fortifications proved to 

be a churchyard, with some scattered bones in it, and 

a plain stone wall round it. 

'I had not been long here before my curiosity was 
raised by a loud noise that I heard in the inferior region. 
Descending thither I found a mob of the Passions as- 
sembled in a riotous manner. Their tumultuary proceed- 
ings soon convinced me, that they affected a democracy. 
After much noise and wrangle, they at length all hearkened 
to Vanity, who proposed the raising of a great army of 
notions, which she offered to lead against those dreadful 
phantoms in the imagination that had occasioned all this 

'Away posted Vanity, and I after her, to the storehouse 
of ideas ; where I beheld a great number of lifeless notions 
confusedly thrown together, but upon the approach of 
Vanity they began to crawl. Here were to be seen, 
among other odd things, sleeping deities, corporeal spirits, 


and worlds formed by chance ; with an endless variety of 
heathen notions, the most irregular and grotesque imagin- 
able. And with these were jumbled several of Christian 
extraction; but such was the dress and light they were 
put in, and their features were so distorted, that they 
looked little better than heathens. There was likewise 
assembled no small number of phantoms in strange habits, 
who proved to be idolatrous priests of different nations. 
Vanity gave the word, and straightway the Talopoins, 
Faquirs, Bramines and Bonzes drew up in a body. The 
right wing consisted of ancient heathen notions, and the 
left of Christians naturalized. All these together, for 
numbers, composed a very formidable army; but the 
precipitation of Vanity was so great, and such was their 
own inbred aversion to the tyranny of rules and discipline, 
that they seemed rather a confused rabble than a regular 
army. I could, nevertheless, observe, that they all agreed 
in a squinting look, or cast of their eyes towards a certain 
person in a mask, who was placed in the centre, and 
whom by sure signs and tokens I discovered to be 

' Vanity had no sooner led her forces into the Imagina- 
tion, but she resolved upon storming the castle, and giving 
no quarter. They began the assault with a loud outcry 
and great confusion. I, for my part, made the best of my 
way and re-entered my own lodging. Some time after, 
inquiring at a bookseller's for A Discourse on Free-thinking, 
which had made some noise, I met with the representatives 
of all those notions drawn up in the same confused order 
upon paper. Sage Nestor, I am 

' Your most obedient humble servant, 

' Ulysses Cosmopolita.' 

' N.B. I went round the table, but could not find a wit 
or mathematician among them.' 

I imagine the account here given may be useful in 
directing to the proper cure of a Free-thinker. In the 
first place, it is plain his Understanding wants to be 
opened and enlarged, and he should be taught the way 
to order and methodise his ideas ; to which end the study 
of the mathematics may be useful. I am farther of opinion. 


that as his Imagination is filled with amusements, arising 
from prejudice, and the obscure or false lights in which he 
sees things, it will be necessary to bring him into good 
company, and now and then carry him to church ; by 
which means he may in time come to a right sense of 
religion, and wear off the ill impressions he has received. 
Lastly, I advise whoever undertakes the reformation of 
a modern Free-thinker, that above all things he be careful 
to subdue his Vanity ; that being the principal motive 
which prompts a little genius to distinguish itself by 
singularities that are hurtful to mankind. 

Or, if the passion of Vanity, as it is for the most part 
very strong in your Free-thinkers, cannot be subdued, let 
it be won over to the interest of religion, by giving them 
to understand that the greatest Genii of the age have 
a respect for things sacred ; that their rhapsodies find no 
admirers, and that the name Free-thinker has, like Tyrant 
of old, degenerated from its original signification, and is 
now supposed to denote something contrary to wit and 
reason. In fine, let them know that whatever temptations 
a few men of parts might formerly have had, from the 
novelty of the thing, to oppose the received opinions of 
Christians, yet that now the humour is worn out, and 
blasphemy and irreligion are distinctions which have long 
since descended down to lackeys and drawers. 

But it must be my business to prevent all pretenders in 
this kind from hurting the ignorant and unwary. In order 
to this, I communicated an intelligence which I received of 
a gentleman's appearing very sorry that he was not well 
during a late fit of sickness, contrary to his own doctrine, 
which obliged him to be merry upon that occasion, except 
he was sure of recovering. Upon this advice to the world, 
the following advertisement got a place in the Post-boy : — 

'Whereas in the paper called the Guardian, of Saturday 
the nth of April instant, a corollary reflexion was made 

on Monsieur D , a member of the royal academy 

of sciences in Paris, author of a book lately published, 
entitled, A Philological Essay, or Reflexions on the death of 
Free-thinkers, with the characters of the most eminent persons 
of both sexes, ancient and modern, that died pleasantly and 
unconcerned, sold by J. Baker in Pater-noster-Row, sug- 


gesting as if that gentleman, now in London, "was very 
much out of humour, in a late fit of sickness, till he was in 
a fair way of recovery : " — this is to assure the public, that 
the said gentleman never expressed the least concern at 
the approach of death, but expected the fatal minute with 
a most heroical and philosophical resignation ; of which 
a copy of verses he wrote, in the serene intervals of his 
distemper, is an invincible proof/ 

All that I contend for is, that this gentleman ^ was out of 
humour when he was sick ; and the advertiser, to confute 
me, says, that 'in the serene intervals of his distemper,' 
that is, when he was not sick, he wrote verses. I shall 
not retract my advertisement till I see those verses ; and 
I will choose what to believe then, except they are under- 
written by his nurse, nor then neither, except she is an 
house-keeper. I must tie this gentleman close to the 
argument; for, if he had not actually his fit upon him, 
there is nothing courageous in the thing, nor does it make 
for his purpose, nor are they heroic verses. 

The point of being merry at the hour of death is a 
matter that ought to be settled by divines; but the pub- 
lisher of the Philological Essay produces his chief authori- 
ties from Lucretius, the earl of Rochester, and Mr. John 
Dryden, who were gentlemen that did not think themselves 
obliged to prove all they said, or else proved their asser- 
tions, by saying or swearing they were all fools that 
believed to the contrary. If it be absolutely necessary 
that a man should be facetious at his death, it would 

be very well if these gentlemen. Monsieur D and 

Mr. B *, would repent betimes, and not trust to 

a death-bed ingenuity; by what has appeared hitherto, 
they have only raised our longing to see their posthumous 

The author of Poetce Rusticantis Literatum Otium is but 
a mere phraseologist ; the philological publisher is but a 
translator; but I expected better usage from Mr. Abel 
Roper who is an original. 

* M. Deslandes; cf. p. 147. " Conjectured to be Mr. Budgell. 




* quae possit facere & servare beatum.' 

HoR. Ep. 6. 1. I. V. 2. 

^To make men happy, and to keep them so/ — Creech. 

It is of great use to consider the Pleasures which 

constitute human happiness, as they are distinguished into 

natural and fantastical. Natural pleasures I call those, 

which, not depending on the fashion and caprice of any 

particular age or nation, are suited to human nature in 

general, and were intended by Providence as rewards for 

the using our faculties agreeably to the ends for which 

they were given us. Fantastical pleasures are those which, 

having no natural fitness to delight our minds, presuppose 

some particular whim or taste accidentally prevailing in 

a set of people, to which it is owing that they please. 

Now, I take it that the tranquillity and cheerfulness with 
which I have passed my life are the effect of having, ever 
since I came to years of discretion, continued my inclina- 
tions to the former sort of pleasures. But, as my experi- 
ence can be a rule only to my own actions, it may probably 
be a stronger motive to induce others to the same scheme 
of life, if they would consider that we are prompted to 
natural pleasures by an instinct impressed on our minds 
by the Author of our nature, who best understands our 
frames, and consequently best knows what those pleasures 
are, which will give us the least uneasiness in the pursuit, 
and the greatest satisfaction in the enjoyment of them. 
Hence it follows that the objects of our natural desires are 
cheap or easy to be obtained ; it being a maxim that holds 
throughout the whole system of created beings, 'that, 
nothing is made in vain,' much less the instincts and 
appetites of animals, which the benevolence as well as 
wisdom of the Deity is concerned to provide for. Nor is 
the fruition of those objects less pleasing than the acquisi- 
tion is easy ; and the pleasure is heightened by the sense 
of having answered some natural end, and the conscious- 

' Guardian^ No. 49, Thursday, May 7, 17 13. 


ness of acting in concert with the Supreme Governor of 
the universe. 

Under natural pleasures I comprehend those which 
are universally suited as well to the rational as the 
sensual part of our nature. And, of the pleasures which 
I affect our senses, those only are to be esteemed natural 
that are contained within the rules of reason, which is 
allowed to be as necessary an ingredient of human nature 
as sense. And, indeed, excesses of any kind are hardly 
to be esteemed pleasures, much less natural pleasures. 

It is evident that a desire terminated in money is fan- 
tastical; so is the desire of outward distinctions, which 
bring no delight of sense, nor recommend us as useful to 
mankind ; and the desire of things merely because they 
are new or foreign. Men who are indisposed to a due 
exertion of their higher parts are driven to such pursuits 
as these from the restlessness of the mind, and the sensi- 
tive appetites being easily satisfied. It is, in some sort, 
owing to the bounty of Providence that, disdaining a cheap 
and vulgar happiness, they frame to themselves imaginary 
goods, in which there is nothing can raise desire, but the 
difficulty of obtaining them. Thus men become the con- 
trivers of their own misery ; as a punishment on themselves 
for departing from the measures of nature. Having by an 
habitual reflexion on these truths made them familiar, the 
effect is, that I, among a number of persons who have 
debauched their natural taste, see things in a peculiar 
light ; which I have arrived at, not by any uncommon 
force of genius or acquired knowledge, but only by 
unlearning the false notions instilled by custom and educa- 

The various objects that compose the world were by 
nature formed to delight our senses : and as it is this alone 
that makes them desirable to an uncorrupted taste, a man 
may be said naturally to possess them, when he possesseth 
those enjojrments which they are fitted by nature to yield. 
Hence it is usual with me to consider myself as having 
a natural property in every object that administers pleasure 
to me. When I am in the country, all the fine seats near 
the place of my residence, and to which I have access, 
I regard as mine. The same I think of the groves and 
fields where I walk, and muse on the folly of the civil 


landlord in London, who has the fantastical pleasure of 
draining dry rent into his coffers, but is a stranger to 
fresh air and rural enjoyments. By these principles I am 
possessed of half a dozen of the finest seats in England, 
which in the eye of the law belong to certain of my 
acquaintance, who being men of business choose to live 
near the court. 

In some great families, where I choose to pass my time, 
a stranger would be apt to rank me with the other domestics; 
but, in my own thoughts and natural judgment, I am master 
of the house, and he who goes by that name is my steward, 
who eases me of the care of providing for myself the con- 
veniences and pleasures of life. 

When I walk the streets, I use the foregoing natural maxim 
(viz. That he is the true possessor of a thing who enjoys 
it, and not he that owns it without the enjoyment of it) to 
convince myself that I have a property in the gay part of all 
the gilt chariots that I meet, which I regard as amusements 
designed to delight my eyes, and the imagination of those 
kind people who sit in them gaily attired only to please 
me. I have a real, and they only an imaginary pleasure 
from their exterior embellishments. Upon the same 
principle, I have discovered that I am the natural proprietor 
of all the diamond necklaces, the crosses, stars, brocades, 
and embroidered clothes which I see at a play or birth- 
night, as giving more natural delight to the spectator than 
to those that wear them. And I look on the beaux and 
ladies as so many paraquets in an aviary, or tulips in 
a garden, designed purely for my diversion. A gallery of 

fictures, a cabinet or library that I have free access to, 
think my own. In a word, all that I desire is the use of 
things, let who will have the keeping of them. By which 
maxim I am grown one of the richest men in Great 
Britain ; with this difference, that I am not a prey to my 
own cares, or the envy of others. 

The same principles I find of great use in my private 
economy. As I cannot go to the price of history-painting, 
I have purchased at easy rates several beautifully designed 
pieces of landscape and perspective, which are much more 
pleasing to a natural taste than unknown faces or Dutch 
gambols, though done by the best masters : my couches, 
beds, and window-curtains are of Irish stuff, which those of 


that nation work very fine, and with a delightful mixture 
of colours \ There is not a piece of china in my house ; 
but I have glasses of all sorts, and some tinged with the 
finest colours, which are not the less pleasing, because 
they are domestic, and cheaper than foreign toys. Every- 
thing is neat, entire, and clean, and fitted to the taste of 
one who had rather be happy than be thought rich. 

Every day, numberless innocent and natural gratifications 
occur to me, while I behold my fellow creatures labouring 
in a toilsome and absurd pursuit of trifles; — one, that he 
may be called by a particular appellation ; another, that he 
may wear a particular ornament, which I regard as a bit 
of ribbon that has an agreeable effect on my sight, but 
is so far from supplying the place of merit where it is not, 
that it serves only to make the want of it more conspicuous. 
Fair weather is the joy of my soul ; about noon I behold 
a blue sky with rapture, and receive great consolation from 
the rosy dashes of light which adorn the clouds of the 
morning and evening. When I am lost among green trees, 
I do not envy a great man with a great crowd at his 
levee. And I often lay aside thoughts of going to an 
opera that I may enjoy the silent pleasure of walking by 
moonlight, or viewing the stars sparkle in their azure 
ground; which I look upon as part of my possessions, 
not without a secret indignation at the tastelessness of 
mortal men who, in their race through life, overlook the 
real enjoyments of it. 

But the pleasure which naturally affects a human mind 
with the most lively and transporting touches, I take to be 
the sense that we act in the eye of infinite wisdom, power, 
i and goodness, that will crown our virtuous endeavours here 
• with a happiness hereafter, large as our desires, and 
I lasting as our immortal souls. This is a perpetual spring 
I of gladness in the mind. This lessens our calamities, and 
I doubles our joys. Without this the highest state of life 
i is insipid, and with it the lowest is a paradise. What un- 
natural wretches then are those who can be so stupid as 
to imagine a merit, in endeavouring to rob virtue of her 
support, and a man of his present as well as future 
bliss ? But as I have frequently taken occasion to animad- 
vert on that species of mortals, so I propose to repeat 

1 Cf. Querisi, Qu. 64-69. 


my animadversions on them, till I see some symptoms of 



quis enim virtutem amplectitur ipsam, 

Prsemia si tollas? ' Juv. Sat. 10. v. 141. 

* For who would virtue for herself regard, 
Or wed, without the portion of reward ? * — Dryden. 

It is usual with polemical writers to object ill designs 
to their adversaries. This turns their argument into satire, 
which, instead of shewing an error in the understanding, 
tends only to expose the morals of those they write against. 
I shall not act after this manner with respect to the Free- 
thinkers. Virtue, and the happiness of society are the 
great ends which all men ought to promote, and some of 
that sect would be thought to have at heart above the rest 
of mankind. But, supposing those who make that pro- 
fession to carry on a good design in the simplicity of their 
hearts, and according to their best knowledge, yet it is 
much to be feared, those well-meaning souls, while they 
endeavoured to reconftnend virtue, have in reality been 
advancing the interests of vice, which as I take to proceed 
from their ignorance of human nature, we may hope, 
when they become sensible of their mistake, they will, in 
consequence of that beneficent principle they pretend to 
act upon, reform their practice for the future. 

The sages whom I have in my eye speak of virtue as 
the most amiable thing in the world ; but, at the same 
time that they extol her beauty, they take care to lessen 
her portion. Such innocent creatures are they, and so 
great strangers to the world, that they think this a likely 
method to increase the number of her admirers. 

Virtue has in herself the most engaging charms ; and 
Christianity, as it places her in the strongest light, and 
adorned with all her native attractions, so it kindles a new 
fire in the soul, by adding to them the unutterable rewards 
which attend her votaries in an eternal state. Or if there 
are men of a saturnine and heavy complexion, who are not 
easily lifted up by hope, there is the prospect of everlasting 

^ Guardian, No. 55, Thursday, May 14, 17 13. 


punishments to agitate their souls^ and frighten them into 
the practice of virtue and an aversion from vice. 

Whereas your sober Free-thinkers tell you, that virtue 
indeed is beautiful, and vice deformed ; the former deserves 
your love, and the latter your abhorrence ; — but then, it is 
for their own sake, or on account of the good and evil 
which immediately attend them, and are inseparable from 
their respective natures. As for the immortality of the 
soul, or eternal punishments and rewards, those are 
openly ridiculed, or rendered suspicious by the most sly 
and laboured artifice*. 

I will not say, these men act treacherously in the cause 
of virtue ; but will any one deny that they act foolishly 
who pretend to advance the interest of it by destroying or 
weakening the strongest motives to it, which are accom- 
modated to all capacities, and fitted to work on all dis- 
positions, and enforcing those alone which can affect only 
a generous and exalted mind ? 

Surely they must be destitute of passion themselves, and 
unacquainted with the force it hath on the minds of others, 
who can imagine that the mere beauty of fortitude, tem- 
perance, and justice is sufficient to sustain the mind of 
man in a severe course of self-denial against all the 
temptations of present profit and sensuality. 

It is my opinion the Free-thinkers should be treated as 
a set of poor ignorant creatures, that have not sense to 
discover the excellency of religion ; it being evident those 
men are no witches, nor likely to be guilty of any deep 
design, who proclaim aloud to the world that they have 
less motives to honesty than the rest of their fellow 
subjects ; who have all the inducements to the exercise 
of any virtue which a Free-thinker can possibly have, 
and besides the expectation of never-ending happiness or 
misery as the consequence of their choice. 

Are not men actuated by their passions, and are not 
hope and fear the most powerful of our passions ? And 
are there any objects which can rouse and awaken our 
hopes and fears, like those prospects that warm and 
penetrate the heart of a Christian, but are not regarded by 
a Free-thinker? 

It is not only a clear point that a Christian breaks through 

^ Cf. the Third Dialogue in Alciphron. 


Stronger engagements whenever he surrenders himself 
to commit a criminal action, and is stung with a sharper 
remorse after it, than a Free-thinker ; but it should even 
seem that a man who believes no future state, would act 
a foolish part in being thoroughly honest. For what 
reason is there why such a one should postpone his own 
private interest or pleasure to the doing his duty? If 
a Christian foregoes some present advantage for the sake 
of his conscience, he acts accountably, because it is with 
the view of gaining some greater future good. But he 
that, having no such view, should yet conscientiously deny 
himself a present good in any incident where he may save 
appearances is altogether as stupid as he that would trust 
him at such a juncture. 

It will, perhaps, be said that virtue is her own reward, 
that a natural gratification attends good actions, which is 
alone sufficient to excite men to the performance of them. 
But although there is nothing more lovely than virtue, 
and the practice of it is the surest way to solid natural 
happiness even in this life ; yet titles, estates, and fan- 
tastical pleasures are more ardently sought after by most 
men than the natural gratifications of a reasonable mind ; 
and it cannot be denied that virtue and innocence are not 
always the readiest methods to attain that sort of happiness. 
Besides, the fumes of passion must be allayed, and reason 
must burn brighter than ordinary, to enable men to see 
and relish all the native beauties and delights of a virtuous 
life. And though we should grant our Free-thinkers to 
be a set of refined spirits, capable only of being enamoured 
of virtue, yet what would become of the bulk of mankind 
who have gross understandings, but lively senses and 
strong passions? What a deluge of lust and fraud and 
violence would in a little time overflow the whole nation 
if these wise advocates for morality were universally 
hearkened to ? Lastly, opportunities do sometimes offer in 
which a man may wickedly make his fortune, or indulge 
a pleasure, without fear of temporal damage, either in 
reputation, health, or fortune. In such cases, what re- 
straint do they lie under who have no regards beyond the 
grave? the inward compunctions of a wicked, as well 
as the joys of an upright mind, being grafted on the sense 
of another state. 



The thought that our existence terminates with this life 
doth naturally check the soul in any generous pursuit, 
contract her views, and fix them on temporary and selfish 
ends. It dethrones the reason, extinguishes all noble and 
heroic sentiments, and subjects the mind to the slavery 
of every present passion. The wise heathens of antiquity 
were not ignorant of this ; hence they endeavoured by 
fables and conjectures, and the glimmerings of nature, to 
possess the minds of men with the belief of a future state, 
which has been since brought to light by the Gospel, and 
is now most inconsistently decried by a few weak men, 
who would have us believe that they promote virtue by 
turning religion into ridicule. 




' O fortunatos nimiiim, sua si bona norint ! ' 

ViRG. Georg, 2. v. 458. 

*Too happy, if they knew their happy state.' 

Upon the late election of king's scholars, my curiosity 
drew me to Westminster School. The sight of a place 
where I had not been for many years revived in my 
thoughts the tender images of my childhood, which by 
a great length of time had contracted a softness that 
rendered them inexpressibly agreeable. As it is usual 
with me to draw a secret unenvied pleasure from a thou- 
sand incidents overlooked by other men, I threw myself 
into a short transport, forgetting my age, and fancying 
myself a school-boy. 

This imagination was strongly favoured by the presence 
of so many young boys, in whose looks were legible the 
sprightly passions of that age, which raised in me a sort 
of sympathy. Warm blood thrilled through every vein ; 
the faded memory of those enjoyments that once gave me 

^ (T«af</«Vi«, No. 6a, Friday, May Berkeley, in his Bermuda enter- 
22, 1 7 13. Some of these ^ thoughts' prise, and in his retirement to 
are akin to the ideal which inspired Oxford at the end. 


pleasure put on more lively colours, and a thousand gay 
amusements filled my mind. 

It was not without regret that I was forsaken by this 
waking dream. The cheapness of puerile delights, the 
guiltless joy they leave upon the mind, the blooming hopes 
that lift up the soul in the ascent of life, the pleasure that 
attends the gradual opening of the imagination and the 
dawn of reason, made me think most men found that stage 
the most agreeable part of their journey. 

When men come to riper years, the innocent diversions 
which exalted the spirits, and produced health of body, 
indolence of mind, and refreshing slumbers, are too often 
exchanged for criminal delights which fill the soul with 
anguish and the body with disease. The grateful employ- 
ment of admiring and raising themselves to an imitation 
of the polite style, beautiful images, and noble sentiments 
of ancient authors, is abandoned for law-Latin, the lucu- 
brations of our paltry newsmongers, and that swarm of 
vile pamphlets which corrupt our taste, and infest the 
public. The ideas of virtue which the characters of 
heroes had imprinted on their minds insensibly wear out, 
and they come to be influenced by the nearer examples 
of a degenerate age. 

In the morning of life, when the soul first makes her 
entrance into the world, all things look fresh and gay; 
their novelty surprises, and every little glitter or gaudy 
colour transports the stranger. But by degrees the sense 
grows callous, and we lose that exquisite relish of trifles, 
by the time our minds should be supposed ripe for rational 
entertainments. I cannot make this reflexion without 
being touched with a commiseration of that species called 
Beaux, the happiness of those men necessarily terminating 
with their childhood ; who, from a want of knowing other 
pursuits, continue a fondness for the delights of that age 
after the relish of them is decayed. 

Providence hath with a bountiful hand prepared variety 
of pleasures for the various stages of life. It behoves us 
not to be wanting to ourselves, in forwarding the intention 
of nature, by the culture of our minds, and a due prepara- 
tion of each faculty for the enjoyment of those objects it is 
caipdhle of being affected with. 

As our parts open and display by gentle degrees, we 

M 2 


rise from the gratifications of sense to relish those of the 
mind. In the scale of pleasure, the lowest are sensual 
delights, which are succeeded by the more enlarged views 
and gay portraitures of a lively imagination ; and these 
give way to the sublimer pleasures of reason, which dis- 
cover the causes and designs, the frame, connexion, and 
symmetry of things, and fill the mind with the contem- 
plation of intellectual beauty, order, and truth. 

Hence I regard our public schools and universities, not 
only as nurseries of men for the service of the church and 
state, but also as places designed to teach mankind the 
most refined luxury, to raise the mind to its due perfection, 
and give it a taste for those entertainments which afford 
the highest transport, without the grossness or remorse 
that attend vulgar enjoyments. 

In those blessed retreats men enjoy the sweets of 
solitude, and yet converse with the greatest Genii that 
have appeared in every age, wander through the delightful 
mazes of every art and science, and as they gradually 
enlarge their sphere of knowledge, at once rejoice in their 
present possessions, and are animated by the boundless 
prospect of future discoveries. There a generous emu- 
lation, a noble thirst of fame, a love of truth and honour- 
able regards, reign in minds as yet untainted from the 
world. There the stock of learning transmitted down from 
the ancients is preserved, and receives a daily increase ; 
and it is thence propagated by men who, having finished 
their studies, go into the world, and spread that general 
knowledge and good taste throughout the land, which is 
so distant from the barbarism of its ancient inhabitants, 
or the first genius of its invaders. And as it is evident 
that our literature is owing to the schools and universities 
so it cannot be denied that these are owing to our 

It was chiefly, if not altogether, upon religious considera- 
tions that princes, as well as private persons, have 
erected Colleges, and assigned liberal endowments to 
students and professors. Upon the same account they 
meet with encouragement and protection from all Chris- 
tian states, as being esteemed a necessary means to have 
the sacred oracles and primitive traditions of Christianity 
preserved and understood* And it is well known that. 


after a long night of ignorance and superstition, the 
reformation of the church and that of learning began 
together, and made proportionable advances, the latter 
having been the effect of the former, which of course 
engaged men in the study of the learned languages and 
of antiquity. 

Or, if a Free-thinker is ignorant of these facts, he may 
be convinced from the manifest reason of the thing. Is 
it not plain that our skill in literature is owing to the 
knowledge of Greek and Latin, which, that they are still 
preserved among us, can be ascribed only to a religious 
regard ? What else should be the cause why the youth 
of Christendom, above the rest of mankind, are educated 
in the painful study of those dead languages, and that re- 
ligious societies should peculiarly be employed in acquir- 
ing that sort of knowledge, and teaching it to others ? 

And it is more than probable that, in case our Free- 
thinkers could once achieve their glorious design of sinking 
the credit of the Christian religion, and causing those 
revenues to be withdrawn which their wiser forefathers 
had appointed to the support and encouragement of its 
teachers, in a little time the Shaster would be as intelligible 
as the Greek Testament; and we who want that spirit 
and curiosity which distinguished the ancient Grecians 
would by degrees relapse into the same state of barbarism 
which overspread the northern nations before they were 
enlightened by Christianity. 

Some, perhaps, from the ill tendency and vile taste 
which appear in their writings, may suspect that the Free- 
thinkers are carrying on a malicious design against the 
Belles Lettres: for my part, I rather conceive them as 
unthinking wretches of short views and narrow capacities, 
who are not able to penetrate into the causes or conse- 
quences of things. 




* Jupiter est quodcunque vides . . .* — Lucan. 

* Where'er you turn your eyes, 'tis God you see.' 

I HAD this morning a very valuable and kind present 
sent me of a translated work of a most excellent foreign 
writer, who makes a very considerable figure in the 
learned and Christian world. It is entitled, ' A Demon- 
stration of the Existence, Wisdom and Omnipotence of 
God, drawn from the knowledge of Nature, particularly 
of Man, and fitted to the meanest capacity; * by the Arch- 
bishop of Cambray, Author of Telemachus ; and trans- 
lated from the French by the same hand that Englished 
that excellent piece. This great author, in the writings 
which he has before produced, has manifested an heart 
full of virtuous sentiments, great benevolence to mankind, 
as well as a sincere and fervent piety towards his Creator. 
His talents and parts are a very great good to the world, 
and it is a pleasing thing to behold the polite arts sub- 
servient to religion, and recommending it from its natural 
beauty. Looking over the letters of my correspondents, 
I find one which celebrates this Treatise, and recommends 
it to my readers. 

To THE Guardian. 

' I think I have somewhere read, in the writings of one 
whom I take to be a friend of yours, a saying which struck 
me very much, and as I remember it was to this purpose : 
" The existence of a God is so far from being a thing that 
wants to be proved, that I think it is the only thing of 
which we are certain." This is a sprightly and just 
expression ; however, I dare say, you will not be dis- 
pleased that I put you in mind of saying something on 
the Demonstration of the Bishop of Cambray. A man of 
his talents views all things in a light different from that 

^ Guardian f No. 69, Saturday', fence de Dieti was translated into 
May 30, 1713. The First Part of English by Abel Boyer. (London, 
F^nelon's Demonstration de VExis- 17 13.) 

f£nelon*s demonstration 167 

in which ordinary men see them, and the devout disposi- 
tion of his soul turns all those talents to the improve- 
ment of the pleasures of a good life. His style clothes 
philosophy in a dress almost poetic, and his readers enjoy 
in full perfection the advantage, while they are reading 
him, of being what he is. The pleasing representation 
of the animal powers in the beginning of his work, and 
his consideration of the nature of man with the addition 
of reason in the subsequent discourse, impresses upon the 
mind a strong satisfaction in itself, and gratitude towards 
Him who bestowed that superiority over the brute world. 
These thoughts had such an effect upon the author him- 
self that he has ended his discourse with a Prayer. This 
adoration has a sublimity in it befitting his character, and 
the emotions of his heart flow from wisdom and know- 
ledge. I thought it would be proper for a Saturday's 
paper, and have translated it to make you a present of 
it. I have not, as the translator was obliged to do, con- 
fined myself to an exact version from the original, but 
have endeavoured to express the spirit of it, by taking 
the liberty to render his thoughts in such a way as I 
should have uttered them if they had been my own. It 
has been observed that the private letters of great men are 
the best pictures of their souls, but certainly their private 
devotions would be still more instructive, and I know 
not why they should not be as curious and entertaining. 

' If you insert this Prayer, I know not but I may send 
you, for another occasion, one used by a very great wit 
of the last age, which has allusions to the errors of a very 
wild life, and I believe you will think is written with an 
uncommon spirit. The person whom I mean was an 
excellent writer, and the publication of this prayer of 
his may be, perhaps, some kind of antidote against the 
infection in his other writings. But this supplication of 
the bishop has in it a more happy and untroubled spirit ; 
it is (if that is not saying something too fond) the worship 
of an angel concerned for those who had fallen, but 
himself still in the state of glory and innocence. The 
book ends with an act of devotion, to this effect : 

*0 my God ! If the greater number of mankind do not 
discover Thee in that glorious shew of Nature which Thou 


hast placed before our eyes, it is not because Thou art far 
from every one of us. Thou art present to us more than 
any object which we touch with our hands ; but our senses, 
and the passions which they produce in us, turn our 
attention from Thee. Thy light shines in the midst of 
darkness, but the darkness comprehends it not. Thou, 
O Lord, dost every way display thyself. Thou shinest in 
all Thy works, but art not regarded by heedless and 
unthinking man. The whole creation talks aloud of Thee, 
and echoes with the repetitions of Thy holy name. But 
such is our insensibility that we are deaf to the great and 
universal voice of nature. Thou art everywhere about us 
and within us; but we wander from ourselves, become 
strangers to our own souls, and do not apprehend Thy 
presence. O Thou who art the eternal fountain of light 
and beauty, who art the ancient of days, without beginning 
and without end; O Thou, who art the life of all that 
truly live, those can never fail to find Thee who seek for 
Thee within themselves. But, alas ! the very gifts which 
Thou bestowest upon us do so employ our thoughts that 
they hinder us from perceiving the hand which conveys 
them to us. We live by Thee, and yet we live without 
thinking on Thee; but, O Lord, what is life in the 
ignorance of Thee! A dead unactive piece of matter, 
a flower that withers, a river that glides away, a palace 
that hastens to its ruin, a picture made up of fading 
colours, a mass of shining ore, strike our imaginations, 
and make us sensible of their existence. We regard them 
as objects capable of giving us pleasure, not considering 
that Thou conveyest through them all the pleasure which 
we imagine they give us. Such vain empty objects that 
are only the shadows of being, are proportioned to our 
low and grovelling thoughts. That beauty which Thou 
hast poured out on Thy creation is as a veil which hides Thee 
from our eyes. As Thou art a being too pure and exalted 
to pass through our senses. Thou art not regarded by men, 
who have debased their nature, and have made themselves 
like the beasts that perish. So infatuated are they, that, 
notwithstanding they know what is wisdom and virtue, 
which have neither sound, nor colour, nor smell, nor taste, 
nor figure, nor any other sensible quality, they can doubt 
of Thy existence, because Thou art not apprehended by 


the grosser organs of sense. Wretches that we are ! we 
consider shadows as realities, and truth as a phantom. 
That which is nothing is all to us, and that which is all 
appears to us nothing. What do we see in all nature but 
Thee, O my God ! Thou, and only Thou, appearest in 
every thing. When I consider Thee, O Lord, I am swal- 
lowed up and lost in contemplation of Thee. Every thing 
besides thee, even my own existence, vanishes and dis- 
appears in the contemplation of Thee. I am lost to myself 
and fall into nothing when I think on Thee. The man 
who does not see Thee has beheld nothing ; he who does 
not taste Thee, has a relish of nothing. His being is vain, 
and his life but a dream. Set up Thyself, O Lord, set up 
Thyself that we may behold Thee. As wax consumes 
before the fire, and as the smoke is driven away, so let 
thine enemies vanish out of thy presence. How unhappy 
is that soul who, without the sense of Thee, has no God, 
no hope, no comfort to support him ! But how happy the 
man who searches, sighs, and thirsts after Thee ! But he 
only is fully happy on whom Thou liftest up the light of 
Thy countenance, whose tears Thou hast wiped away, and 
who enjoys in Thy loving-kindness the completion of all 
his desires. How long, how long, O Lord, shall I wait 
for that day when I shall possess, in Thy presence, fullness 
of joy and pleasures for evermore! O my God, in this 
pleasing hope, my bones rejoice and cry out, Who is like 
unto Thee! My heart melts away, and my soul faints 
within me, when I look up to Thee who art the God of 
my life, and my portion to all eternity.' 



* mentisque capacius altae.' — Ovid. Met 1. i. v. 76. 

'Of thoughts enlarged, and more exalted mind.* 

As I was the other day taking a solitary walk in St. 
Paul's, I indulged my thoughts in the pursuit of a certain 
analogy between that fabric and the Christian Church in 

* * Narrowness.* Hence called ^ Guardtatty No. 70, Monday, 

' mmM/^ philosophers.' June i, 1 713. 


the largest sense. The divine order and economy of the 
one seemed to be emblematically set forth by the just, 
plain, and majestic architecture of the other. And as the 
one consists of a great variety of parts united in the same 
regular design, according to the truest art, and most exact 
proportion ; so the other contains a decent subordination 
of members, various sacred institutions, sublime doctrines, 
and solid precepts of morality digested into the same 
design, and with an admirable concurrence tending to one 
view, the happiness and exaltation of human nature. 

In the midst of my contemplation, I beheld a fly upon 
one of the pillars ; and it straightway came into my head, 
that this same fly was a Free-thinker. For it required 
some comprehension in the eye of the spectator, to take 
in at one view the various parts of the building, in order 
to observe their symmetry and design. But to the fly, 
whose prospect was confined to a little part of one of the 
stones of a single pillar, the joint beauty of the whole or 
the distinct use of its parts were inconspicuous, and nothing 
could appear but small inequalities in the surface of the 
hewn stone, which in the view of that insect seemed so 
many deformed rocks and precipices. 

The thoughts of a Free-thinker are employed on certain 
minute particularities of religion, the difficulty of a single 
text, or the unaccountableness of some step of Providence 
or point of doctrine to his narrow faculties, without com- 
prehending the scope and design of Christianity, the 
perfection to which it raiseth human nature, the light it 
hath shed abroad in the world, and the close connexion 
it hath as well with the good of public societies as with 
that of particular persons. 

This raised in me some reflexions on that frame or dis- 
position which is called ' largeness of mind,' its necessity 
towards forming a true judgment of things, and, where 
the soul is not incurably stinted by nature, what are the 
likeliest methods to give it enlargement. 

It is evident that Philosophy doth open and enlarge the 
mind by the general views to which men are habituated 
in that study, and by the contemplation of more numerous 
and distant objects than fall within the sphere of mankind 
in the ordinary pursuits of life. Hence it comes to pass 
that philosophers judge of most things very differently 


from the vulgar. Some instances of this may be seen in 
the Theaetetus of Plato, where Socrates makes the follow- 
ing remarks, among others of the like nature : — 

'When a philosopher hears ten thousand acres men- 
tioned as a great estate, he looks upon it as an incon- 
siderable spot, having been used to contemplate the whole 
globe of earth. Or when he beholds a man elated with 
the nobility of his race because he can reckon a series of 
seven rich ancestors, the philosopher thinks him a stupid 
ignorant fellow, whose mind cannot reach to a general 
view of human nature, which would shew him that we 
have all innumerable ancestors, among whom are crowds 
of rich and poor, kings and slaves, Greeks and Barbarians.' 
Thus far Socrates, who was accounted wiser than the rest 
of the Heathens for notions which approach the nearest 
to Christianity. 

As all parts and branches of Philosophy, or speculative 
knowledge, are useful in that respect. Astronomy is pecu- 
liarly adapted to remedy a little and narrow spirit. In 
that science there are good reasons assigned to prove the 
sun an hundred thousand times bigger than our earth, 
and the distance of the stars so prodigious, that a cannon- 
bullet continuing in its ordinary rapid motion, would not 
arrive from hence at the nearest of them in the space 
of an hundred and fifty thousand years. These ideas 
wonderfully dilate and expand the mind. There is some- 
thing in the immensity of this distance that shocks and 
overwhelms the imagination; it is too big for the grasp 
of a human intellect: estates, provinces, and kingdoms 
vanish at its presence. It were to be wished a certain 
prince *, who hath encouraged the study of it in his subjects, 
had been himself a proficient in astronomy. This might 
have shewed him how mean an ambition that was which 
terminated in a small part of what is itself but a point, 
in respect to that part of the universe which lies within 
our view. 

But the Christian Religion ennobleth and enlargeth the 
mind beyond any other profession or science whatsoever. 
Upon that scheme, while the earth, and the transient 
enjoyments of this life, shrink into the narrowest dimen- 
sions, and are accounted as 'the dust of a balance, the 

1 Lewis XIV. 


drop of a bucket, yea, less than nothing,* the intellectual 
world opens wider to our view. The perfections of the 
Deity, the nature and excellence of virtue, the dignity of 
the human soul, are displayed in the largest characters. 
The mind of man seems to adapt itself to the different 
nature of its objects; it is contracted and debased by 
being conversant in little and low things, and feels a pro- 
portionable enlargement arising from the contemplation 
of these great and sublime ideas. 

The greatness of things is comparative ; and this does 
not only hold in respect of extension, but likewise in 
respect of dignity, duration, and all kinds of perfection. 
Astronomy opens the mind, and alters our judgment, with 
regard to the magnitude of extended beings ; but Christi- 
anity produceth an universal greatness of soul. Philosophy 
increaseth our views in every respect, but Christianity 
extends them to a degree beyond the light of nature. 

How mean must the most exalted potentate upon earth 
appear to that eye which takes in innumerable orders of 
blessed spirits, differing in glory and perfection ! How 
little must the amusements of sense, and the ordinary 
occupations of mortal men, seem to one who is engaged 
in so noble a pursuit as the assimilation of himself to the 
Deity, which is the proper employment of every Christian ! 

And the improvement which grows from habituating the 
mind to the comprehensive views of religion must not be 
thought wholly to regard the understanding. Nothing is 
of greater force to subdue the inordinate motions of the 
heart, and to regulate the will. Whether a man be actuated 
by his passions or his reason, these are first wrought upon 
by some object, which stirs the soul in proportion to its 
apparent dimensions. Hence irreligious men, whose short 
prospects are filled with earth, and sense, and mortal life, 
are invited, by these mean ideas, to actions proportionably 
little and low. But a mind whose views are enlightened 
and extended by religion is animated to nobler pursuits 
by more sublime and remote objects. 

There is not any instance of weakness in the Free- 
thinkers that raises my indignation more than their tending 
to ridicule Christians as men of narrow understandings, 
and to pass themselves upon the world for persons of 
superior sense, and more enlarged views. But I leave it 


to any impartial man to judge which hath the nobler 
sentiments, which the greater views; he whose notions 
are stinted to a few miserable inlets of sense, or he whose 
sentiments are raised above the common taste by the 
anticipation of those delights which will satiate the soul, 
when the whole capacity of her nature is branched out 
into new faculties? He who looks for nothing beyond 
this short span of duration, or he whose aims are cg-extended 
with the endless length of eternity ? He who derives his 
spirit from the elements, or he who thinks it was inspired 
by the Almighty ? 

V X 


* Certum voto pete finem.' — Hor. Ep. 2. I. i. v. 56. 

* To wishes fix an end.* — Creech. 

The writers of morality assign two sorts of Goods. 
The one is in itself desirable ; the other is to be desired, 
not on account of its own excellency, but for the sake of 
some other thing which it is instrumental to obtain. These 
are usually distinguished by the appellations of End and 
Means. We are prompted by nature to desire the former, 
but that we have any appetite for the latter is owing to 
choice and deliberation. 

But as wise men engage in the pursuit of means from 
a farther view of some natural good with which they are 
connected ; fools, who are actuated by imitation and not 
by reason, blindly pursue the means, without any design 
or prospect of applying them. The result whereof is, that 
they entail upon themselves the anxiety and toil, but are 
debarred from the subsequent delights which arise to 
wiser men; since their views, not reaching the end, ter- 
minate in those things which, although they have a relative 
goodness, yet considered absolutely are indifferent, or it 
may be evil. 

The principle of this misconduct is a certain short- 
sightedness in the mind. And as this defect is branched 

* Guardtartj No. 77, Tuesday, June 9, 17 13. 


forth into innumerable errors in life, and hath infected all 
ranks and conditions of men, so it more eminently appears 
in three species — the Critics, Misers, and Free-thinkers. 
I shall endeavour to make good this observation with 
regard to each of them. And first of the Critic. 
/ l^rofit and pleasure are the ends, that a reasonable 
I creature would propose to obtain by studj^ or indeedLby 
'any other undertaking. Those parts or^learning ^w^ucn 
relate to the imagination, as eloquence and poetry, produce 
an immediate pleasure in the mind. And sublime and 
useful truths, when they are conveyed in apt allegories 
or beautiful images, make more distinct and lasting im- 
pressions ; by which means the fancy becomes subservient 
to the understanding, and the mind is at the same time 
delighted and instructed. The exercise of the under- 
standing in the discovery of truth is likewise attended with 
great pleasure, as well as immediate profit. It not only 
strengthens the faculties, purifies the soul, subdues the 
passions; but, besides these advantages, there is also 
a secret joy that flows from intellectual operations, pro- 
portioned to the nobleness of the faculty, and not the less 
affecting because inward and unseen. 

But the mere exercise of the memory as such, instead ot 
bringing pleasure or immediate benefit, is a thing of vain 
irksomeness and fatigue, especially when employed in the 
acquisition of languages, which is, of all others, the most 
dry and painful occupation. There must be therefore 
something further proposed, or a wise man would never 
engage in it. And, indeed, the very reason of the thing 
plainly intimates that the motive which first drew men to 
affect a knowledge in dead tongues was that they looked 
on them as means to convey more useful and entertaining 
knowledge into their minds. 

There are nevertheless certain critics, who, seeing that 
Greek and Latin are in request, join in a thoughtless 
pursuit of those languages, without any further view. 
They look on the ancient authors, but it is with an eye 
to phraseology, or certain minute particulars which are 
valuable for no other reason but because they are despised 
and forgotten by the rest of mankind. The divine maxims 
of morality, the exact pictures of human life, the profound 
discoveries in the arts and sciences, just thoughts, bright 


images, sublime sentiments, are overlooked, while the 
mind is learnedly taken up in verbal remarks. 

Was a critic ever known to read Plato with a con- 
templative mind ; or Cicero, in order to imbibe the noble 
sentiments of virtue and a public spirit which are con- 
spicuous in the writings of that great man ; or to peruse 
the Greek or Roman historians, with an intention to form 
his own life upon the plan of the illustrious patterns they 
exhibit to our view? Plato wrote in Greek. Cicero's 
Latin is fine. And it often lies in a man's way to quote 
the ancient historians. 

There is no entertainment upon earth more noble and 
befitting a reasonable mind than the perusal of good 
authors, or that better qualifies a man to pass his life with 
satisfaction to himself or advantage to the public. But 
where men of short views and mean souls give themselves 
to that sort of employment which nature never designed 
them for, they, indeed, keep one another in countenance ; 
but, instead of cultivating and adorning their own minds, 
or acquiring an ability to be usefiil to the world, they reap 
no other advantage from their labours than the dry con- 
solation arising from the applauses they bestow upon each 

And the same weakness, or defect of the mind from 
whence Pedantry takes its rise does likewise give birth to 
Avarice. Words and money are both to be regarded as 
only marks of things. And as the knowledge of the one, 
so the possession of the other is of no use, unless directed 
to a further end. A mutual commerce could not be 
carried on among men if some common standard had not 
been agreed upon, to which the value of all the various 
products of art and nature were reducible, and which 
might be of the same use in the conveyance of property as 
words are in that of ideas. Gold, by its beauty, scarceness, 
and durable nature, seems designed by Providence to 
a purpose so excellent and advantageous to mankind. 
Upon these considerations that metal came first into 
esteem. But such who cannot see beyond what is nearest 
in the pursuit, beholding mankind touched with an affection 
for gold, and being ignorant of the true reason that 
introduced this odd passion into human nature, imagine 
some intrinsic worth in the metal to be the cause of it. 


Hence the same men who, had they been turned towards 
learning, would have employed themselves in laying up 
words in their memory, are, by a different application, 
employed to as much purpose in treasuring up gold in 
their coffers. They differ only in the object ; the principle 
on which they act, and the inward frame of mind, is the 
same in the Critic and the Miser. 

And upon a thorough observation, our modern sect of 
Free-thinkers will be found to labour under the same 
defect with those two inglorious species. Their short 
views are terminated in the next objects, and their specious 
pretences for liberty and truth are so many instances of 
mistaking the means for the end. But the setting these 
points in a clear light must be the subject of another 



* Nimirum insanus paucis videatiir, eo quod 
Maxima pars hominum morbo jactatur eodem.* 

HoR. Sat, 3. I. 2. V. 120. 

* Few think these mad, for most, like these, 

Are sick and troubled with the same disease.' — Creech. 

There is a restless endeavour in the mind of man after 
Happiness. This appetite is wrought into the original 
frame of our nature, and exerts itself in all parts of the 
creation that are endued with any degree of thought or 
sense. But, as the human mind is dignified by a more 
comprehensive faculty than can be found in the inferior 
animals, it is natural for men not only to have an eye each 
to his own happiness, but also to endeavour to promote that 
of others in the same rank of being : and in proportion to 
the generosity that is ingredient in the temper of the soul, 
the object of its benevolence is of a larger and narrower 
extent. There is hardly a spirit upon earth so mean and 
contracted as to centre all regards on its own interest, 
exclusive of the rest of mankind. Even the selfish man 

^ Guardian^ No. 83, Tuesday, June 16, 1713. 


has some share of love which he bestows on his family and 
his friends. A nobler mind hath at heart the common 
interest of the society or country of which he makes apart. 
And there is still a more diflfiisive spirit, whose being or 
intentions reach the whole mass of mankind, and are 
continued beyond the present age, to a succession of 
future generations. 

The advantage arising to him who hath a tincture of this 
generosity on his soul is, that he is affected with a sublimer 
joy than can be comprehended by one who is destitute of 
that noble relish. The happiness of the rest of mankind 
hath a natural connexion with that of a reasonable mind. 
And in proportion as the actions of each individual con- 
tribute to this end, he must be thought to deserve well or 
ill both of the world and of himself. I have in a late 
paper observed, that men who have no reach of thought 
do oft misplace their affections on the means, without 
respect to the end, and by a preposterous desire of things 
in themselves indifferent forego the enjoyment of that 
happiness which those things are instrumental to obtain. 
This observation has been considered with regard to 
Critics and Misers ; I shall now apply it to Free-thinkers. 
Liberty and truth are the main points which these 
gentlemen pretend to have in view ; to proceed therefore 
methodically, I will endeavour to shew, in the first place, 
that liberty and truth are not in themselves desirable, but 
only as they relate to a farther end. And secondly, that 
the sort of liberty and truth (allowing them those names) 
which our Free-thinkers use all their industry to promote, 
is destructive of that end, viz. human Happiness ; and 
consequently that species, as such, instead of being en- 
couraged or esteemed, merit the detestation and abhorrence 
of all honest men. In the last place, I design to shew 
that, under the pretence of advancing liberty and truth, 
they do in reality promote the two contrary evils. 

As to the first point, it has been observed that it is the 
duty of each particular person to aim at the Happiness of 
his fellow creatures ; and that as this view is of a wider or 
narrower extent, it argues a mind more or less virtuous. 
Hence it follows that a liberty of doing good actions which 
conduce to the felicity of mankind, and a knowledge of 
such truths as might either give us pleasure in the con- 



templation of them, or direct our conduct to the great ends 
of life, are valuable perfections. But shall a good man, 
therefore, prefer a liberty to commit murder or adultery 
before the wholesome restraint of divine and human laws ? 
Or shall a wise man prefer the knowledge of a troublesome 
and afflicting truth before a pleasant error that would 
cheer his soul with joy and comfort, and be attended with 
no ill consequences ? Surely no man of common sense 
would thank him who had put it in his power to execute 
the sudden suggestions of a fit of passion or madness, or 
imagine himself obliged to a person who, by forwardly 
informing him of ill news, had caused his soul to anticipate 
that sorrow which she would never have felt so long as the 
ungrateful truth lay concealed. 

Let us then respect the Happiness of our species, and 
in this light examine the proceedings of the Free-thinkers. 
From what giants and monsters would these knight-errants 
undertake to free the world ? From the ties that religion 
imposeth on our minds, from the expectation of a future 
judgment, and from the terrors of a troubled conscience, 
not by reforming men's lives, but by giving encouragement 
to their vices. What are those important truths of which 
they would convince mankind? That there is no such 
thing as a wise and just Providence; that the mind of 
man is corporeal ; that religion is a state-trick, contrived 
to make men honest and virtuous, and to procure a sub- 
sistence to others for teaching and exhorting them to be 
so ; that the good tidings of Life and Immortality brought 
to light by the Gospel are fables and impostures : from 
believing that we are made in the image of God, they 
would degrade us to an opinion that we are on a level with 
the beasts that perish. What pleasure or what advantage 
do these notions bring to mankind ? Is it of any use to 
the public that good men should lose the comfortable 
prospect of a reward to their virtue, or the wicked be 
encouraged to persist in their impiety, from an assurance 
that they shall not be punished for it hereafter. 

Allowing, therefore, these men to be patrons of liberty 
^nd truth, yet it is of such truths and that sort of liberty 
which makes them justly be looked upon as enemies to the 
peace and happiness of the world. But upon a thorough 
and impartial view it will be found that their endeavours. 


instead of advancing the cause of liberty and truth, tend 
only to introduce slavery and error among men. There 
are two parts in our nature, the baser, which consists of 
our senses and passions, and the more noble and rational, 
which is properly the human part, the other being common 
to us with brutes. The inferior part is generally much 
stronger, and has always the start of reason, which if, in 
the perpetual struggle between them, it were not aided 
from heaven by religion would almost universally be van- 
quished, and man become a slave to his passions, which 
as it is the most grievous and shameful slavery, so it is 
the genuine result of that liberty which is proposed by 
overturning religion. Nor is the other part of their design 
better executed. Look into their pretended truths ; are 
they not so many wretched absurdities, maintained in 
opposition to the light of nature and divine revelation by 
sly inuendos and cold jests, by such pitiful sophisms and 
such confused and indigested notions that one would 
vehemently suspect those men usurped the name of Free- 
thinkers with the same view that hypocrites do that of 
godliness, that it may serve for a cloke to cover the 
contrary defect? 

I shall close this discourse with a parallel reflexion on 
these three species, who seem to be allied by a certain 
agreement in mediocrity of understanding. A Critic is 
entirely given up to the pursuit of learning ; when he has 
got it, is his judgment clearer, his imagination livelier, or 
his manners more polite than those of other men ? Is it 
observed that a Miser, when he has acquired his super- 
fluous estate, eats, drinks, or sleeps with more satisfaction, 
that he has a cheerfuller mind, or relishes any of the 
•enjoyments of life better than his neighbours? The Free- 
thinkers plead hard for a licence to think freely; they 
have it: but what use do they make of it? Are they 
eminent for any sublime discoveries in any of the arts 
and sciences ? have they been authors of any inventions 
that conduce to the well-being of mankind? Do their 
writings shew a greater depth of design, a clearer method, 
or more just and correct reasoning than those of other men ? 

There is a great resemblance in their genius, but the 
Critic and Miser are only ridiculous and contemptible 
creatures, while the Free-thinker is also a pernicious one. 

N 2 




' Mens agitat molem . • .' — Virg. ^n, 6. v. 727. 
'A mind informs the mass.' 

To one who regards things with a philosophical eye, and 
hath a soul capable of being delighted with the sense that 
truth and knowledge prevail among men, it must be a 
grateful reflexion to think that the sublimest truths, which 
among the heathens only here and there one of brighter 
parts and more leisure than ordinary could attain to, are 
now grown familiar to the meanest inhabitants of these 

Whence came this surprising change, that regions 
formerly inhabited by ignorant and savage people should 
now outshine ancient Greece, and the other eastern coun- 
tries, so renowned of old, in the most elevated notions of 
theology and morality ? Is it the effect of our own parts 
and industry ? Have our common mechanics more refined 
understandings than the ancient philosophers? It is 
owing to the God of Truth, who came down from heaven, 
and condescended to be Himself our teacher. It is as we 
are Christians that we profess more excellent and divine 
truths than the rest of mankind. 

If there be any of the Free-thinkers who are not direct 
atheists, charity would incline one to believe them ignorant 
of what is here advanced. And it is for their information 
that I write this paper, the design of which is to compare 
the ideas that Christians entertain of the being and attri- 
butes of a God, with the gross notions of the Heathen 
world. Is it possible for the mind of man to conceive 
a more august idea of the Deity than is set forth in the 
Holy Scriptures ? I shall throw together some passages 
relating to this subject, which I propose only as philo- 
sophical sentiments, to be considered by a Free-thinker. 

' Though there be that are called gods, yet to us there 

^ Guardian, No. 88, Monday, as on the reputed authority of 
June 22, 1 7 13, attributed to Berke- Steele, 
ley on internal evidence, as well 


is but one God. He made the heaven, and heaven of 
heavens, with all their host ; the earth and all things that 
are therein ; the seas and all that is therein ; He said, let 
them be, and it was so. He hath stretched forth the 
heavens. He hath founded the earth and hung it upon 
nothing. He hath shut up the sea with doors, and said. 
Hitherto shalt thou come and no farther, and here shall 
thy proud waves be stayed. The Lord is an invisible 
spirit, in whom we live, and move, and have our being. 
He is the fountain of life. He preserveth man and beast. 
Hegiveth food to all flesh. In His hand is the soul of 
every living thing, and the breath of all mankind. The 
Lordmaketh poor and maketh rich. He bringeth low and 
Hfteth up. He killeth and maketh alive. He woundeth 
and He healeth. By Him kings reign, and princes decree 
justice, and not a sparrow falleth to the ground without 
Him. All angels, authorities, and powers are subject to 
Him. He appointeth the moon for seasons, and the sun 
knoweth His going down. He thundereth with His voice, 
and directeth it under the whole heaven, and His lightning 
unto the ends of the earth. Fire and hail, snow and 
vapour, wind and storm, fulfil His word. The Lord is 
Kmg for ever and ever, and His dominion is an everlasting 
dominion. The earth and the heavens shall perish, but 
Thou, O Lord, remainest. They all shall wax old as 
doth a garment, and as a vesture shalt Thou fold them up, 
and they shall be changed ; but Thou art the same, and 
Thy years shall have no end. God is perfect in know- 
ledge; His understanding is infinite. He is the Father 
of lights. He looketh to the ends of the earth, and seeth 
under the whole heaven. The Lord beholdeth all the 
children of men from the place of His habitation, and 
considereth all their works. He knoweth our down-sitting 
and up-rising. He compasseth our path and counteth our 
steps. He is acquainted with all our ways ; and when we 
enter our closet and shut our door He seeth us. He 
knoweth the things that come into our mind, every one of 
4em: and no thought can bewithholden from Him. The 
Lord is good to all, and His tender mercies are over all 
His works. He is a Father of the fatherless, and a judge 
of the widow. He is the God of peace, the Father of 
roercies, and the God of all comfort and consolation. The 


Lord is great, and we know Him not; His greatness 
is unsearchable. Who but He hath measured the waters 
in the hollow of His hand, and meted out the heavens 
with a span? Thine, O Lord, is the greatness, and the 
power, and the glory, and the victory, and the majesty. 
Thou art very great, Thou art clothed with honour. 
Heaven is Thy throne and earth is Thy footstool.' 

Can the mind of a philosopher rise to a more just 
and magnificent, and at the same time a more amiable 
idea of the Deity than is here set forth in the strongest 
images and most emphatical language? And yet this is 
the language of shepherds and fishermen. The illiterate 
Jews and poor persecuted Christians retained these noble 
sentiments, while the polite and powerful nations of the 
earth were given up to that sottish sort of worship of 
which the following elegant description is extracted from 
one of the inspired writers. 

' Who hath formed a god, and molten an image that is 
profitable for nothing? The smith with the tongs both 
worketh in the coals and fashioneth it with hammers, and 
worketh it with the strength of his arms : yea, he is hungry 
and his strength faileth. He drinketh no water and is 
faint. A man planteth an ash, and the rain doth nourish 
it. He burneth part thereof in the fire. He roasteth 
roast. He warmeth himself. And the residue thereof he 
maketh a god. He faileth down unto it, and worshippeth 
it, and prayeth unto it, and saith. Deliver me, for thou art 
my god. None considereth in his heart, I have burnt part 
of it in the fire, yea also, I have baked bread upon the 
coals thereof: I have roasted flesh and eaten it; and 
shall I make the residue thereof an abomination ? Shall 
I fall down to the stock of a tree ? ' 

In such circumstances as these, for a man to declare 
for free-thinking, and disengage himself from the yoke 
of idolatry, were doing honour to human nature, and a 
work well becoming the great asserters of reason. But in 
a church, where our adoration is directed to the Supreme 
Being, and (to say the least) where is nothing either in 
the object or manner of worship that contradicts the light 
of nature ; there, under the pretence of free-thinking, to 
rail at the religious institutions of their country, sheweth 
an undistinguishing genius that mistakes opposition for 


freedom of thought. And, indeed, notwithstanding the 
pretences of some few among our Free-thinkers, I can 
hardly think there are men so stupid and inconsistent 
with themselves, as to have a serious regard for Natural 
Religion, and at the same time use their utmost endeavours 
to destroy the credit of those sacred Writings, which as 
they have been the means of bringing these parts of the 
world to the knowledge of natural religion, so in case 
they lose their authority over the minds of men, we should 
of course sink into the same idolatry which we see prac- 
tised by other unenlightened nations. 

If a person who exerts himself in the modern way of 
free-thinking be not a stupid idolater, it is undeniable 
that he contributes all he can to the making other men so, 
either by ignorance or design; which lays him under 
the dilemma, I will not say of being a fool or knave, but 
of incurring the contempt or detestation of mankind. 



*Igneus est ollis vigor, et coelestis origo 
Seminibus * Virg. ^n, 6. v. 730. 

*They boast ethereal vigour, and are form'd 
From seeds of heavenly birth.* 

The same faculty of reason and understanding, which 
placeth us above the brute part of the creation, doth also 
subject our minds to greater and more manifold disquiets 
than creatures of an inferior rank are sensible of. It is 
by this that we anticipate future disasters, and oft create 
to ourselves real pain from imaginary evils, as well as 
multiply the pangs arising from those which cannot be 

It behoves us therefore to make the best use of that 
sublime talent, which, so long as it continues the instru- 
jnent of passion, will serve only to make us more miserable, 
in proportion as we are more excellent than other beings. 

It is the privilege of a thinking being to withdraw from 

^ Guardian^ No. 89, Tuesday, June 23, 1713. 


the objects that solicit his senses, and turn his thoughts 
inward on himself. For my own part I often mitifi^ate the 
pain arising from the little misfortunes and dislppoint- 
ments that checker human life by this introversion of my 
faculties, wherein I regard my own soul as the image 
of her Creator, and receive great consolation from behold- 
ing those perfections which testify her divine original, and 
lead me into some knowledge of her everlasting archetype. 

But there is not any property or circumstance of my 
being that I contemplate with more joy than my Immor- 
tality. I can easily overlook any present momentary 
sorrow, when I reflect that it is in my power to be happy 
a thousand years hence. If it were not for this thought, 
I had rather be an oyster than a man, the most stupid and 
senseless of animals than a reasonable mind tortured with 
an extreme innate desire of that perfection which it despairs 
to obtain. 

It is with great pleasure that I behold instinct, reason, 
and faith concurring to attest this comfortable truth. It is 
revealed from heaven, it is discovered by philosophers, 
and the ignorant, unenlightened part of mankind have 
a natural propensity to believe it. It is an agreeable 
entertainment to reflect on the various shapes under which 
this doctrine has appeared in the world. The Pythagorean 
transmigration, the sensual habitations of the Mahometan, 
and the shady realms of Pluto, do all agree in the main 
points, the continuation of our existence, and the distri- 
bution of rewards and punishments, proportioned to the 
merits or demerits of men in this life. 

But in all these schemes there is something gross and 
improbable, that shocks a reasonable and speculative mind. 
Whereas nothing can be more rational and sublime than 
the Christian idea of a Future State. * Eye hath not seen, 
nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of 
man to conceive the things which God hath prepared for 
those that love him.' The above-mentioned schemes are 
narrow transcripts of our present state : but in this in- 
definite description there is something ineffably great and 
noble. The mind of man must be raised to a higher 
pitch, not only to partake the enjoyments of the Christian 
Paradise, but even to be able to frame any notion of them. 

Nevertheless, in order to gratify our imagination, and 


by way of condescension to our low way of thinking, the 
ideas of light, glory, a crown, &c. are made use of to adum- 
brate that which we cannot directly understand. 'The 
Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, 
and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters ; and 
God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. And there 
shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither 
shall there be any more pain ; for the former things are 
passed away, and behold all things are new. There shall 
be no night there, and they need no candle, neither light 
of the sun : for the Lord God giveth them light, and shall 
make them drink of the river of his pleasures ; and they 
shall reign for ever and ever. They shall receive a crown 
of glory which fadeth not away.' 

These are cheering reflexions; and I have often won- 
dered that men could be found so dull and phlegmatic as 
to prefer the thought of annihilation before them ; or so 
ill-natured as to endeavour to persuade mankind to the 
disbelief of what is so pleasing and profitable even in the 
prospect ; or so blind as not to see that there is a Deity, 
and if there be, that this scheme of things flows from his 
attributes, and evidently corresponds with the other parts 
of his creation. 

I know not how to account for this absurd turn of 
thought, except it proceed from a want of other employ- 
ment joined with an affectation of singularity. I shall, 
therefore, inform our modern Free-thinkers of two points 
whereof they seem to be ignorant. The first is, that it is 
not the being singular, but being singular for something, 
that argues either extraordinary endowments of nature, 
or benevolent intentions to mankind, which draws the 
admiration and esteem of the world. A mistake in this 
point naturally arises from that confusion of thought which 
1 do not remember to have seen so great instances of in 
^y writers as in certain modern Free-thinkers. 

The other point is, that there are innumerable objects 
^thin the reach of a human mind, and each of these 
objects may be viewed in innumerable lights and positions, 
^d the relations arising between them are innumerable. 
There is, therefore, an infinity of things whereon to em- 
ploy their thoughts, if not with advantage to the world, at 
kastwith amusement to themselves, and without offence 


or prejudice to other people. If they proceed to exert 
their talent of free-thinking in this way, they may be 
innocently dull, and no one take any notice of it. But to 
see men without either wit or argument pretend to run 
down divine and human laws, and treat their fellow- 
subjects with contempt for professing a belief of those 
points on which the present as well as future interest 
of mankind depends, is not to be endured. For my own 
part, I shall omit no endeavours to render their persons 
as despicable, and their practices as odious, in the eye of 
the world, as they deserve. 


^Homo sum, humani nil a me alienum puto.' 

Ter. Heaut Act i. Sc. i. 

^I am a man, and have a fellow feeling of every thing belonging to man.' 

If we consider the whole scope of the creation that 
lies within our view, the moral and intellectual, as well 
as the natural and corporeal, we shall perceive through- 
out a certain correspondence of the parts, a similitude 
of operation and unity of design, which plainly demon- 
strate the universe to be the work of one infinitely good 
and wise Being ; and that the system of thinking beings 
is actuated by laws derived from the same divine power 
which ordained those by which the corporeal system is 

From the contemplation of the order, motion, and 
cohesion of natural bodies, philosophers are now agreed 
that there is a mutual attraction between the most dis- 
tant parts at least of this solar system. All those bodies 
that revolve round the sun are drawn towards each other, 
and towards the sun, by some secret, uniform and never- 
ceasing principle. Hence it is that the earth (as well 
as the other planets) without flying off in a tangent line, 

* Guardian, No. 126, Wednes- London on his way to Italy as 
day, August 5, 17 13. This was Lord Peterborough's chaplain, 
three months before Berkeley left 


constantly rolls about the sun, and the moon about the 
earth, without deserting her companion in so many 
thousand years. And as the larger systems of the uni- 
verse are held together by this cause, so likewise the 
particular globes derive their cohesion and consistence 
from it. 

Now, if we carry our thoughts from the corporeal to 
the moral world, we may observe in the Spirits or Minds 
of men a like principle of attraction, whereby they are 
drawn together in communities, clubs, families, friend- 
ships, and all the various species of society. As in bodies, 
where the quantity is the same, the attraction is strongest 
between those which are placed nearest to each other, 
so it is likewise in the minds of men, cceteris paribus, 
between those which are most nearly related. Bodies 
that are placed at the distance of many millions of miles 
may nevertheless attract and constantly operate on each 
other, although this action do not shew itself by an union 
or approach of those distant bodies, so long as they are 
withheld by the contrary forces of other bodies, which, 
at the same time, attract them different ways, but would, 
on the supposed removal of all other bodies, mutually 
approach and unite with each other. The like holds 
with regard to the human soul, whose affection towards 
the individuals of the same species who are distantly 
related to it is rendered inconspicuous by its more power- 
ful attraction towards those who have a nearer relation 
to it. But as those are removed the tendency which 
before lay concealed doth gradually disclose itself. 

A man who has no family is more strongly attracted 
towards his friends and neighbours ; and, if absent from 
these, he naturally falls into an acquaintance with those 
of his own city or country who chance to be in the same 
place. Two Englishmen meeting at Rome or Constan- 
tinople soon run into a familiarity. And in China or 
Japan Europeans would think their being so a good 
feason for their uniting in particular converse. Farther, 
in case we suppose ourselves translated into Jupiter or 
Saturn, and there to meet a Chinese or other more dis- 
tant native of our own planet, we should look on him 
as a near relation, and readily commence a friendship 
^th him. These are natural reflexions, and such as 


' may convince us that we are linked by an imperceptible 
chain to every individual of the human race. 

The several great bodies which compose the solar 
system are kept from joining together at the common 
centre of gravity by the rectilinear motions the Author 
of nature has impressed on each of them; which, con- 
curring with the attractive principle, form their respective 
orbits round the sun : upon the ceasing of which motions, 
the general law of gravitation that is now thwarted would 

^shew itself by drawing them all into one mass. After 
'the same manner, in the parallel case of society, private 
, passions and motions of the soul do often obstruct the 
operation of that benevolent uniting instinct implanted 

,' in human nature ; which, notwithstanding, doth still exert, 

■ and will not fail to shew itself when those obstructions 
are taken away. 

The mutual gravitation of bodies cannot be explained 
any other way than by resolving it into the immediate 
operation of God, who never ceases to dispose and actuate 
his creatures in a manner suitable to their respective 
beings. So neither can that reciprocal attraction in the 
minds of men be accounted for by any other cause. It 
is not the result of education, law, or fashion ; but is 
a principle originally ingrafted in the very first formation 
of the soul by the Author of our nature. 

And as the attractive power in bodies is the most 
universal principle which produceth innumerable effects, 
and is a key to explain the various phenomena of nature ; 

•so the corresponding social appetite in human souls is 
the great spring and source of moral actions. This it 
is that inclines each individual to an intercourse with his 
species, and models every one to that behaviour which 
best suits with the common well-being. Hence that 
sympathy in our nature whereby we feel the pains and 
joys of our fellow creatures. Hence that prevalent love 
in parents towards their children, which is neither founded 
on the merit of the object, nor yet on self-interest. It 
is this that makes us inquisitive concerning the affairs 
of distant nations which can have no influence on our 
own. It is this that extends our care to future genera- 
tions, and excites us to acts of beneficence towards those 
who are not yet in being, and consequently from whom 


we can expect no recompense. In a word, hence rises 
that diffusive sense of Humanity so unaccountable to the 
selfish man who is untouched with it, and is, indeed, a sort 
of monster or anomalous production. ^ 

These thoughts do naturally suggest the following par- ^'^JSi^ 
ticulars. First, That as social inclinations are absolutely 
necessary to the well-being of the world, it is the duty ^- 
and interest of each individual to cherish and improve ^, 
them to the benefit of mankind ; the duty, because it is 
agreeable to the intention of the Author of our being, 
who aims at the common good of his creatures, and as 
an indication of his will, hath implanted the seeds of 
mutual benevolence in our souls; the interest, because 
the good of the whole is inseparable from that of the 
parts; in promoting therefore the common good, every 
one doth at the same time promote his own private interest. 
Another observation I shall draw from the premises is, 
That it makes a signal proof of the divinity of the Christian 
religion, that the main duty which it inculcates above all 
others is charity. Different maxims and precepts have 
distinguished the different sects of philosophy and re- 
ligion : our Lord's peculiar precept is, * Love thy neigh- 
bour as thyself. By this shall all men know that you 
are My disciples, if you love one another.* 

I will not say that what is a most shining proof of our 
religion is not often a reproach to its professors; but 
this I think very plain, that, whether we regard the 
analogy of nature, as it appears in the mutual attraction 
or gravitations of the mundane system, in the general 
frame and constitution of the human soul, or lastly, in 
the ends and aptnesses which are discoverable in all 
parts of the visible and intellectual world, we shall not 
doubt but the precept which is the characteristic of our 
religion came from the Author of nature. Some of our 
modern Free-thinkers would indeed insinuate the Christian 
morals to be defective, because (say they) there is no 
mention made in the gospel of the virtue of friendship \ 

' See Shaftesbury's Essay on as a representative * free-thinker/ 

^ Fnedom of Wit and Humour, and both with Dr. Fowler's esti- 

Pt II. sect, 3. The Third Dialogue mate of the author of the Character- 

"J Aldphron may be compared with isttcs, in his Shaftesbury and Hutche- 

this early criticism of Shaftesbury son (1882). 


These sagacious men (if I may be allowed the use of that 
vulgar saying) 'cannot see the wood for trees/ That 
a religion whereof the main drift is to inspire its pro- 
fessors with the most noble and disinterested spirit of 
love, charity, and beneficence to all mankind, or, in other 
words, with a friendship to every individual man, should 
be taxed with the want of that very virtue, is surely a 
glaring evidence of the blindness and prejudice of its 




First published in 1871 


These two Sermons were found among the Berkeley 
MSS. of Archdeacon Rose, in Berkeley's handwriting. 
They were delivered at Leghorn, where he spent the 
Spring of 1714, when he was Lord Peterborough's 
chaplain, in his first visit to Italy. They are the only 
extant specimens of his way of addressing an ordinary 
Christian congregation ; for his ' discourses ' in the chapel 
of Trinity College in 1708 and 17 12, and in London in 1732, 
were for an academical, or an otherwise select audience. 
They are simple and practical rather than profound. 
'Strong in the faith of the Catholic Church on all im- 
portant points, this great writer,' says Archdeacon Rose, 
'uses them as acknowledged among Christians; and 
taking them as his starting-points, he illustrates them, and 
sometimes confirms them, but for the most part applies 
them to Christian practice.' 

Basil Kennet, author of Roman Antiquities^ and a friend 
of Addison, was chaplain of the English factory at Leghorn 
during Berkeley's stay, and it was in his chapel that 
Berkeley preached. 



I Tim. I. 15. 

Tits is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus 

came into the world to save sinners. 

As there is not any subject on which we can employ our 
thoughts with more advantage and comfort than the life 
and sufferings of our blessed Saviour, and the inestimable 
benefits that it is in our power to receive thereby, so we 
ought frequently to make them the subject of our medita- 
tions; especially at this time, which is appointed by the 
Church for a peculiar season of contrition and repentance, 
and a devout preparation of ourselves for the reception 
ofthe Holy Sacrament. But that you may clearly see 
the necessity and importance of our Saviour's coming into 
the world, it will be necessary to reflect on the state in 
which mankind was before His coming amongst them. 
The whole world was then comprehended under two 
general heads of Jews and Gentiles ; and that the wisdom 
and goodness of God in sending the Messiah upon earth 
niay be made more manifest unto you, I shall consider the 
condition and circumstances of each of these distinctly ; 
and first of the Gentiles. 

By whom we are to understand all those nations that 
had no other guides to direct them in the conduct of life 
and pursuit of happiness besides reason and common 
sense, which are otherwise called the light of nature. 

^ [Preached at Leghome, on Palm Sunday, 17 14.] — Author. 




They had no inspired writings to inform them of the being 
and attributes of God, or of the worth and immortality 
of their own souls : no lawgivers to explain to them that 
manner of worship by which the Supreme Being was to 
be adored : no prophets or apostles to reclaim them from 
their evil ways and warn them of the wrath to come, or 
to encourage them to a good life by laying before them 
the infinite and eternal happiness, which in another world 
shall be the portion of those who practise virtue and inno- 
cence in this. 

It must indeed be owned that the Gentiles might by 
a due use of their reason, by thought and study, observing 
the beauty and order of the world, and the excellence 
and profitableness of virtue, have obtained some sense of 
a Providence and of Religion ; agreeably to which the 
apostle saith that the invisible things of God from the 
creation of the world are clearly seen, and understood by 
the things which are made, even His eternal power and 
Godhead. But how few were they who made this use of 
their reason, or lived according to it ! Perhaps here and 
there one among those who were called Philosophers, while 
the bulk of mankind, being diverted by the vain pursuits of 
riches and honours and sensual pleasures from cultivating 
their minds by knowledge and virtue, sunk into the grossest 
ignorance, idolatry and superstition. Professing them- 
selves wise, they changed the glory of the incorruptible 
God into an image, made like to corruptible man, and 
to birds and fourfooted beasts and creeping things. Their 
sacred rites were polluted with acts of uncleanness and 
debauchery ; and human sacrifice often stained the altars 
erected to their Deities. It would take up too much time 
to recount all the extravagant follies and cruelties which 
made up the belief and practice of their religion: as 
their burning their own children to the God Moloch in 
the valley of Hinnom ; their adoring oxen and serpents 
or inanimate things as the sun and stars, and certain 
plants or fruits of the earth, which things are at this day 
practised by many nations where the glorious light of the 
Gospel has not yet shone. I shall conclude this account 
of their idolatry b}r the following description of it taken out 
of the Prophet Isaiah : — * A man planteth an ash, and the 
rain doth nourish it. Then shall it be for a man to burrf : 


for he will take thereof, and warm himself; yea, he 
kindleth it, and baketh bread ; yea, he maketh a god, and 
worshippeth it ; he maketh it a graven image, and falleth 
down thereto. He burneth part thereof in the fire ; with 
part thereof he eateth flesh ; he roasteth roast, and is 
satisfied : yea, he warmeth himself, and saith. Aha, I am 
warm, I have seen the fire : and the residue thereof he 
maketh a god, even his graven image : he falleth down 
unto it, and worshippeth it, and prayeth unto it, and saith, 
Deliver me ; for thou art my god. They have not known 
nor understood : for he hath shut their eyes, that they 
cannot see ; and their hearts, that they cannot understandf. 
And none considereth in his heart, neither is there know- 
ledge nor understanding to say, I have burned part of it 
in the fire ; yea, also I have baked bread upon the coals 
thereof; I have roasted flesh, and eaten it: and shall 
I make the residue thereof an abomination ? shall I fall 
down to the stock of a tree ? ' 

In such circumstances as these, for a man to declare for 
free-thinking, and disengage himself from the yoke of 
idolatry, were doing honour to Human Nature, and a work 
well becoming the great assertors of Reason. But in 
a church where our adoration is directed to the Supreme 
Being, and (to say the least) where is nothing in the object 
or manner of our worship that contradicts the light of 
nature, there, under the pretence of Free-thinking to rail 
at the religious institutions of their country, sheweth an 
undistinguishing mind that mistakes the spirit of opposition 
for freedom of thought. But to return. 

Suitable to their religion were the lives of our ancestors : 
our ancestors, I say, who before the coming of our blessed 
Saviour made part of the Gentiles, the rest of the heathen 
world, sate in darkness and the shadow of death. In those 
da^ of ignorance and estrangement from the living God, 
it IS hardfy to be conceived what a deluge of licence and 
iniqui^ overwhelmed mankind. It cannot indeed be de- 
nied that vice is too common amongst us now, but, how- 
ever, virtue is in some reputation. The frequent denounc- 
ing of God*s judgments against sinners hath some effect 
on our consciences; and even the reprobate who hath 
c^guished in himself all notion of religion is oft re- 
stnuned by a sense of decency and shame from those 

o 2 


actions which are held in abhorrence by all good Christians, 
whereas in the times of Gentilism, men were given up to 
work uHcleanness with greediness. Lust and intemperance 
knew no bounds, and our forefathers acted those crimes 
publicly and without remorse from which they apprehended 
neither shame nor punishment. St. Paul gives us a cata- 
logue of their crimes when he tells us they * were filled 
with all unrighteousness, fornication, wickedness, covetous- 
ness, maliciousness ; full of envy, murder, debate, deceit, 
malignity ; whisperers, backbiters, haters of God, despite- 
ful, proud, boasters, inventors of evil things, disobedient to 
parents ; without understanding, covenant-breakers, with- 
out natural affection, implacable, unmerciful.* 

What a frightful picture of our forefathers ; but we may 
still see too much of it among ourselves not to believe 
it true. Now when so thick a darkness had covered the 
world, how expedient was it that the Sun of Righteousness 
should arise with healing on His wings ! When the general 
state of mankind was so deplorable, how necessary was 
it that Christ Jesus should come into the world to save 
sinners ! 

And the like necessity of a Saviour will appear also with 
relation to the Jews, if we reflect on their state. These 
were indeed the chosen people of God, who, as such, had 
vouchsafed to them many extraordinary miracles, prophe- 
cies, and revelations. They had a law imparted to them 
from Heaven, together with frequent assurances and in- 
stances of the Divine protection so long as they continued 
in the observance of it. But we must consider in the first 
place that the ancient ceremonial Law was a yoke which, 
as the apostle tells the Jews of his time, neither they nor 
their fathers were able to bear. Their circumcision, 
sacrifices, purifications, abstaining from meats and the like 
ordinances, were burdensome and carnal ; such as in them- 
selves could not perfect or regenerate the soul. And are 
therefore to be considered as having a further view, inas- 
much as they were types and prefigurations of the Messiah 
and the Spiritual Religion that He was to introduce into 
the world. And as proofs that this ritual way of worship 
accommodated to the carnal and stiffnecked Jews was not 
the most acceptable to God, there occur several passages 
even in the Old Testament. Thus, for example, in the 


Prophet Isaiah, 'To what purpose is the multitude of your 
sacrifices unto me ? saith the Lord : I am full of the fat 
of your burnt offerings of rams and of the fat of the fed 
beasts. Bring no more oblations, incense is an abomina- 
tion unto me. The new moons and sabbaths I cannot 
away with. Cease to do evil ; learn to do well. Seek 
judgment, relieve the oppressed ; judge the fatherless, 
plead for the widow.* 

But, secondly, the moral Law was not arrived to its full 
perfection under the dispensation of the Jews. They were 
borne with on many points upon the account of the hard- 
ness of their hearts. The adhering to one and the same 
wife, the forgiving our enemies and loving our neighbours 
as ourselves, are precepts peculiar to Christianity '. To 
the wisdom of God it did not seem convenient that the Law 
at first proposed to the Jews should enjoin the most heroic 
strains of charity or the height and purity of Christian 
virtue; but rather by morals less severe, and figures of 
things to come, to prepare their minds for the more perfect 
and spiritual doctrine of the Gospel. In regard to which 
we may say with the apostle, that the Law was a school- 
master to bring the Jews to Christ. 

Thirdly, the knowledge of a future state was not so 
clearly and fully revealed to the Jews. These hopes do 
not generally seem to have reached beyond the grave. 
Conquests over their enemies, peace and prosperity at 
home, a land flowing with milk and honey. These and 
such like temporal enjoyments were the rewards they 
expected of their obedience ; as on the other hand the 
evils commonly denounced against them were plagues, 
famines, captivities, and the like. Pursuant to which, we 
find the Resurrection to have been a controverted point 
among the Jews, maintained by the Pharisees, and denied 
by the Sadducees. So obscure and dubious was the 
revelation of another world before life and immortality 
Were brought to light by the Gospel. 

We should further consider that it was in vain to expect 
salvation by the works of the Law ; since it was impossible 
for human nature to perform a perfect unsinning obedience 
to it We are told that even the righteous man falls 

' This statement requires modification. See Lev. xix. 18. 


seven times in a day. Such is the frailty of our nature, 
and so many and various are the temptations which on all 
sides assault us from the world, the flesh, and the devil, 
that we cannot live without sinning at least in word and 
thought. And the unavoidable reward of sin was death. 
Do this and live was the condition of the old covenant ; 
and seeing that by the corruption of our nature derived 
from our first parents we were unable to fulfil that con- 
dition, we must without another covenant have been all 
necessarily included under the sentence of death. Agree- 
ably to which St. Paul saith, ' As many as are of the works 
of the Law are under the curse. For it is written, Cursed 
is every one that continueth not in all the things that are 
written in the book of the Law to do them.' 

You see, from what has been said, the miserable forlorn 
condition of all mankind, both Jews and Gentiles, in 
former ages ; and we should still have continued in the 
same state of sin and estrangement from God, were it not 
that * the Day-Spring from on high hath visited us ' — were 
it not for Him of whom Isaiah foretold : ' The Gentiles 
shall come to Thy light, and the kings of the Gentiles to 
Thy rising' — the ever blessed Son of God, who came 
down upon earth to be our Teacher, our Redeemer, our 
Mediator. [Well, therefore, may we be filled with glad- 
ness and cry out with the prophet, * Sing, O heaven, 
and rejoice, O earth, and break forth into singing, O 
ye mountains ! for the Lord hath comforted His people 
and will have mercy on His afflicted.'] How just an 
occasion have we here of comfort and joy. What if we 
were by nature ignorant and brutish, we have now the 
glorious light of the Gospel shining among us, and instead 
of worshipping stocks and stones are brought to adore the 
living God ? What if we are encompassed with snares 
and afflictions in this present world ? We have the grace 
of God and the blessed hope of eternity to strengthen and 
support us. In fine, what if we have merited the wrath 
of God and vengeance of Heaven by our sins and trans- 
gressions, since this is a faithful saying, and worthy of all 
acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save 
sinners ? which words, that you may the better under- 
stand, it will be necessary to explain unto you. The 
second point pressed, viz. how and in what sense Jesus 


Christ promotes the salvation of sinners. And this He 
has done in four respects. Firstly, by His preaching ; 
secondly, by His example ; thirdly, by His death ; and 
fourthly, by His intercession. 

First, I say, by His preaching. As there is nothing 
which renders us so acceptable to God as a good life, 
which consists in the practice of virtue and holiness, it 
was highly necessary, m order to put us in a capacity of 
salvation, that our duty should be plainly laid before us, 
and recommended in the most powerful and persuasive 
manner. This has been effectually performed by our 
Lord and His apostles, who went about preaching the 
Word of God, and exhorting all men to forsake their evil 
ways and follow after righteousness, to become just and 
sober, and chaste and charitable ; in a word, to discharge 
all the several offices and duties of life in a blameless and 
exemplary manner. Jew and Gentile are equally called 
upon in the Gospel, and morality is there advanced to 
a degree of purity and perfection beyond either the Law 
of Moses or the precepts of the wisest of the heathen. 
And that no motives or engagements to the observation 
of it may be wanting, we have, on the one hand, the 
highest and most inestimable rewards, and on the other 
hand, the sorest and most terrific punishments proposed 
to us. But as example is oftentimes found no less instruc- 
tive than precept, and to the end all methods might be 
employed to rescue man from the slavery of sin and death, 
our blessed Lord condescended to take upon Him human 
nature, that He might become a living example of all those 
virtues which we are required to practise. His whole life 
was spent in acts of charity, meekness, patience, and every 
good work. He has not only told us our duty, but also 
shewed us how to perform it, having made Himself a per- 
fect pattern of holiness for our imitation. And this is the 
second method whereby Christ contributes to save sinners. 

In the next place we are to observe, that as our blessed 
Saviour omitted no instance of love and goodness to man- 
kind, not only His life, but His death also, was of the last 
importance to our redemption. Such is the infinite purity 
and holiness of Almighty God, that we could not hope for 
any reconciliation with Him, so long as our souls were 
stined by the filthiness and pollution of sin. But neither 


could rivers of the blood of rams and bulls, or of our own 
tears, have been sufficient to wash out those stains. It 
is in the unalterable nature of things that sin be followed 
by punishment. For crimes cried aloud to Heaven for 
vengeance, and the justice of God made it necessary to 
inflict it. [Behold, then, mankind at an infinite distance 
from Heaven, and happiness oppressed with a load of 
guilt, and condemned to a punishment equal to the guilt, 
which was infinitely heightened and aggravated by the 
Majesty of the offended God! Such was our forlorn, 
hopeless condition,] when lo ! the Lamb of God, the 
Eternal Son of the Father, clothed Himself with flesh 
and blood that He may tread the wine-press of the wrath 
of God, and offer Himself a ransom for us. He sheds 
His own blood that He may purge away our sins, and 
submits to the shameful punishment of the Cross, that by 
His death He may open to us the door to eternal life. 

Lastly, having broke asunder the bands of death, and 
triumphed over the grave, He ascended to Heaven, where 
He now sitteth at the right hand of God, ever making 
intercession for us. To this purpose speaks the apostle 
to the Hebrews, in the following manner :— ' Christ Jesus, 
because He continueth for ever, hath an unchangeable 
priesthood. Wherefore, also, He is able to save them 
to the uttermost that come unto God by Him, seeing 
He ever liveth to make intercession for them.' And 
should not this be an occasion of unspeakable comfort to 
us, that we have the Son of God for our advocate, even 
His ever-blessed Son, whom He hath appointed Heir of 
all things, who hath so great love for men that He never 
ceases to plead our cause and solicit our pardon. And 
this is the fourth way whereby our Lord makes good the 
words of my text, that this is a faithful saying, and worthy 
of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to 
save sinners. It appears, then, from what hath been said, 
that sinners shall be saved ; and, if so, may we not sin 
on in hopes that we shall go to Heaven when we can 
sin no longer ? The lives of too many Christians would 
persuade us they entertain such thoughts as these. 
But let us not deceive ourselves, and abuse the method 
which the good providence of God designed for our salva- 
tion, cross the gracious designs of Heaven, and treasure 


up to ourselves vengeance against the day of wrath. Can 
we be so foolish as to think our Holy Redeemer led a life 
of spotless innocence upon earth, in order to procure us 
a licence to taste the pleasures of sin ? Must He be 
humble that we maybe proud and arrogant? Must He 
live in poverty that we may make a god of riches, and 
heap them together by avarice and extortion ? Shall the 
Son of God give His body to be crucified that we may 
pamper our flesh in drunkenness and gluttony ? Or can 
we hope that He will without ceasing intercede with the 
Father in behalf of those wretches who, instead of praying 
for this mercy at His hands, are perpetually blaspheming 
His name with oaths and curses ? 

But you will say, are not these sinners saved ? I answer, 
it is true sinners are saved. But not those who tread 
under foot the Son of God, and do despite to the Spirit of 
Grace. Christ Jesus came into the world to save repenting 
sinners. If we will be saved, we must do something on 
our parts also, and, without relying altogether on the 
sufferings and merits of Christ, work out our own salva- 
tion with fear and trembling. 

The good tidings of the Gospel amount, in short, to 
no more than this : that we shall be saved if we repent 
and believe ! But we must not suppose that this repent- 
ance consists only in a sorrow for sin ; there must be 
a forsaking of our evil ways, a reformation and amendment 
of life. Neither must it be thought that the faith here 
required is an empty, notional belief. ' Thou believest,' 
saith St. James, * thou doest well : the devils also believe 
and tremble ; but wilt thou know, O vain man, that faith 
without works is dead.' The faith of a true Christian 
must be a lively faith that sanctifies the heart, and shews 
itself in the fruits of the Spirit. 

By nature we are vessels of wrath polluted with the 
original corruption of our first parents and our own mani- 
fold transgressions, whereas by the grace of God, shewed 
forth in Christ Jesus, our sins are purged away, and our 
sincere, though imperfect endeavours are accepted. But 
without these sincere endeavours, without this lively faith 
and unfeigned repentance, to hope for salvation is sense- 
less. We cannot be guilty of a more fatal mistake than to 
4ink the Christian warfare a thing to be performed with 


ease and indifference. It is a work of difficulty that 
requires our utmost care and attention, and must be made 
the main business of our lives. We must pluck out the 
right eye, cut off the right hand, that is, subdue our 
darling affections, cast off our beloved and bosom sin, 
if we have a mind to enter into the kingdom of Heaven. 
He that will partake of the benefits of the Gospel, must 
endeavour to live up to the precepts of it — to be pure and 
innocent in mind and manners, to love God with all his 
heart, and with all his strength, and his neighbour as him- 
self. There must be no hatred, no malice, no slandering, 
no envy, no strife in a regenerate Christian. But all love, 
joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, meekness, 
the most ardent and diffusive charity, ever abounding in 
good works, and promoting his neighbour's interest as his 
own. You see how great obligations our profession lays 
upon us. How far short of these do the performances of 
most men fall ! What, I beseech you, does the piety of 
a modern Christian commonly amount to ? He is indeed 
content to retain the name of that profession into which 
he was admitted by baptism, but without taking any care 
to fulfil his baptismal vow, or, it may be, without so much 
as ever thinking of it. He may, perhaps, in a fit of the 
spleen, or sickness, or old age, when he has no longer any 
ability or temptation to sin, entertain some slight thoughts 
of turning to God while the strength and flower of his age 
is spent in the service of Satan. Or sometimes he may 
give a penny to a poor naked wretch that he may relieve 
himself from the pain of seeing a miserable object '. On 
a Sunday, in compliance with the custom of our country, 
we dress ourselves and go to church. But what is it that 
folks do in church? When they have paid their com- 
pliments to one another, they lift up their hands and eyes 
to God, but their hearts are far from Him ! Prayers and 
thanksgivings are now over, without zeal or fervour, with- 
out a sense of our own littleness and wants, or the majesty 
of that God whom we adore. The warmest and most 

' This is altered on the opposite the public service of the Church, 

page thus : * Neither must we if, when we lift up our hands and 

rely on outward performances, eyes to God, our hearts are far from 

without an inward and sincere Him ? ' 
piety. What avails it to frequent 


seraphic hymns are pronounced with a cold indifference, 
and sermons heard without one resolution of being the 
better for them, or putting one word of them in practice. 
God declares that He has no pleasure in the death of a 
sinner, but had rather that he would turn from his wicked- 
ness and live. Why then will ye die ? ' I have spread 
out my hands, saith the Lord, all the day to a rebellious 
people, a people that provoketh Me continually to My face. 
1 have spread out My hands.' God, you see, is desirous 
and earnest for our conversion, and ready to receive us ! 
Why then should we be negligent in what concerns our 
salvation ? And shall all those methods which God has 
used to bring us to Him be in vain ? Shall we frustrate 
the mission and sufferings of His well-beloved Son? The 
infinite pangs and sufferings that He underwent in the 
work of our redemption should, one would think, soften 
the most obdurate heart, and dispose us to suitable returns 
of love and duty. 

The prophet Isaiah, several hundred years before our 
Saviour's birth, gives the following lively description of 
His sufferings : — 'He was despised, and we esteemed Him 
not. Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our 
sorrows : yet we did esteem Him stricken, smitten of God, 
and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions. 
He was bruised for our iniquities : the chastisement of our 
peace was upon Him ; and with His stripes we are healed. 
All we like sheep have gone astray ; we have turned every 
one to his own way ; and the Lord hath laid on Him the 
iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, and He was afflicted, 
yet He opened not His mouth : He is brought as a lamb 
to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is 
dumb, so He openeth not His mouth.' And does it seem 
a small thing to you that the blessed Son of God, by whom 
He made the worlds, who is the brightness of His glory 
and the express image of His person, should quit the 
hippy mansions of Heaven to dome down upon earth and 
take upon Himself the punishment of our sins ? That He 
who could command legions of angels should, for our 
sakes, submit to the insults and scorn of the lowest of 
mankind? Figure to yourselves His head dishonoured 
with an ignominious crown of thorns, His face spit upon, 
and buffeted by an impious and profane rabble ! His flesh 


torn with scourges, His hands and feet pierced with nails, 
blood and water streaming from His side ! His ears 
wounded with taunts and reproaches ! And that mouth 
which uttered the glad tidings of salvation, filled with gall 
and vinegar ! in fine, figure to yourselves His sacred body 
hung upon a cross, there to expire in lingering torments 
between thieves and malefactors ! But who can figure to 
himself, or what imagination is able to comprehend the 
unutterable agony that He felt within when the cup of 
the fury of God was poured out upon His soul, and His 
spirit laboured under the guilt of all mankind ? Can we 
think on these things, which are all the effects of our 
sins, and at the same time be untouched with any sense or 
compunction for them ? Shall the sense of those crimes 
that made our Saviour sweat drops of blood be unable 
to extort a single tear from us ? When the earth quakes, 
and the rocks are rent, the skies are covered with dark- 
ness, and all nature is troubled at the passion of the Lord 
of Life, shall man alone remain stupid and insensible ? 

But if we are not generous and grateful enough to be 
affected with the sufferings of our Saviour, Jet us, at 
least, have some regard to our own, and bethink ourselves 
in this our day of the heavy punishment that awaits every 
one of us who continues in a course of sin I Let us 
bethink ourselves that in a few days the healthiest and 
bravest of us all shall lie mingled with the common dust, 
and our souls be disposed of by an irreversible decree, 
that no tears, no humiliation, no repentance, can avail 
on the other side of the grave ! But it is now in our 
power to avoid the torments of the place where the worm 
dieth not, and the fire is not quenched, provided that 
we repent of our sins, and, for the time to come, ' denying 
ungodliness and worldly lusts, we live soberly and godly 
in this present world, looking for that blessed hope and 
the glorious appearance of the great God and our Saviour 
Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for us that He may 
redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto Himself 
a peculiar people zealous of good works/ 

That all we here present may be partakers of this 
redemption, and numbered among this peculiar people, 
God, of His infinite mercy, grant ; to whom be ascribed all 
honour, praise, power, and dominion, now and for evermore ! 




St. John xiii. 35. 

By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have 

love one to another. 

To a man who considers things with candour and 
attention there are not wanting on all sides invincible 
proofs of the divinity of the Christian religion. So many 
prophecies accomplished, so many and so stupendous 
miracles wrought in the eyes of the world, such a con- 
stant uninterrupted tradition sealed with the blood of so 
many thousand mart3rrs, such a wonderful spread and pro- 
pagation of it without human force or artifice, and against 
the most powerful opposition from the subtilty and rage 
of its adversaries : these things, I say, with the sublimity 
of its doctrines and the simplicity of its rites, can leave 
not a doubt of its coming from God in a mind not sullied 
with sin, not blinded with prejudice, and not hardened 
with obstinacy. 

But among all the numerous attestations to the divinity 
of our most holy Faith, there is not any that carries with 
it a more winning conviction than that which may be 
drawn from the sweetness and excellency of the Chris- 
tian morals. There runs throughout the Gospels and 
Epistles such a spirit of love, gentleness, charity, and 
good-nature, that as nothing is better calculated to pro- 
cure the happiness of mankind, so nothing can carry with 
it a surer evidence of its being derived from the common 
Father of us all. Herein that paternal love of God to 
men is visible, that mutual charity is what we are prin- 
cipally enjoined to practise. He doth not require from 
us costly sacrifices, magnificent temples, or tedious pil- 
grimages, but only that we should love one another. This 
is ever3nvhere recommended to us in the most practical 
and earnest manner both by our Saviour and His apostles. 

* [Preached at Legliorne.] — Author. 


And when our blessed Lord had spent His life upon 
earth in acts of charity and goodness, and was going to 
put a period to it by the most amazing instance of love 
to mankind that was ever shewn, He leaves this precept 
as a legacy to His disciples, 'A new commandment I give 
unto you, That ye love one another ; as I have loved you, 
that ye also love one another. By this shall all men know 
that ye are My disciples, if ye have love one to another/ 
Mark with what earnestness and emphasis our Lord incul- 
cates this commandment. In the compass of a few verses 
He repeats it thrice. He invites us by His own example 
to the practice of it, and to bind it on our conscience 
makes our obedience in this point the mark of our calling. 
'By this,' says He, 'shall all men know that ye are My 
disciples, if ye have love one to another.' In treating 
of which words I shall observe this method : — 

First, I shall endeavour to make you sensible of the 
nature and importance of this duty; 

Secondly, I shall lay before you the good effects it is 
attended with when duly practised ; and, in the last place, 
I shall add some further considerations to persuade you 
to the observation of it. 

First, then, I am to shew the nature and importance 
of this duty. If you are minded duly to put in practice 
this evangelical virtue of charity, you must preserve and 
cherish in your minds a warm affectionate love towards 
your neighbours. It will not suffice that you have an 
outward civility and complaisance for each other; this 
may be good breeding, but there is something more re- 
quired to make you good Christians. There must be an 
inward, sincere, disinterested affection that takes root 
in the heart and shews itself in acts of kindness and 
/benevolence. 'My little children,' saith St. John, 'let 
us not love in word but in deed and truth.' 

In the Gospel use of the word we are all brothers, and 
we must live together as becomes brethren. Is a poor 
Christian naked or hungry, you must in proportion to 
your ability be ready to clothe and feed him ; ' for,' says 
the apostle, ' whoso hath this world's good, and seeth ms 
brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of com- 
passion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him ? ' 
Does your brother labour under any bodily infirmity, or 


is he likely to incur a danger when it is in your power 
to relieve or protect him, you must do it cheerfully with- 
out grudging the trifling expense or trouble it may put 
you to, for 'great is your reward in heaven.' Does he 
take ill courses, does he harden himself in habits of sin, 
is he led astray by the conversation and example of 
wicked men, is he remiss in observing the ordinances 
of religion, or does he shew a contempt of sacred things ; 
' restore such a one in the spirit of meekness, considering 
thyself, lest thou also be tempted. Bear ye one another's 
burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ* When your 
neighbour is in flourishing circumstances you should re- 
joice at his prosperity, and instead of looking on him with 
an envious eye, be well pleased to see him thrive in this 
world and reap the finits of an honest industry. Or 
in case his affairs take an unhappy turn, you should be 
generous enough to feel another^s sufferings, and employ 
your credit or interest to support the sinking fortune of 
an honest man. Lastly, instead of taking a diabolical 
pleasure in hearing the faults of other men aggravated 
or blazed abroad, you must be delighted to hear their 
virtues celebrated and placed in a public light for the 
encouragement and imitation of others. We should be 
slow to believe, displeased to hear, and always averse 
from propagating any scandalous stories to the disparage- 
ment of our neighbours. If they are false, to spread or 
countenance them is the highest injustice, and if they are 
true it may be called the highest cruelty. It is not doing 
as you would be done by to draw the secret failings of 
your neighbours into the full view of the world ; it is 
a barbarous, savage joy that you take in discovering his 
sins and imperfections ; it is a cruelty not only to him 
but likewise to other men, inasmuch as vicious examples 
made public strengthen the party of sinners, spread the 
contagion of vice, and take off from the horror of it. 
And yet by a base malignity of temper, men are for the 
most part better pleased with satire than panegyric, and 
they can behold with much greater satisfaction the reputa- 
tion of another stab'd and torn by the venemous ^ tongues 
of slanderers and detractors than sett ^ off to advantage 
by the recital of his good actions. 

' ' sic. 


It were an endless task to lay before you all the passages 
in the New Testament where this duty of charity is recom- 
mended to our practice; it is in every page insisted on 
as the principal, the essential, the distinguishing part of the 
Christian religion. It is represented as the great scope 
and design of our Saviour and His apostles preaching 
in the world. 'For this,' says St. John, 'is the message 
that you have heard from the beginning, that ye should 
love one another.' It is set forth as the sum and perfec- 
tion of the law. Thus St. Paul says to the Romans, 
' He that loveth another hath fulfilled the law.' And 
our blessed Lord Himself hath declared unto us that on 
the love of God and our neighbour hang all the law and 
the prophets. Certainly 'tis inculcated and bound upon the 
conscience as that without which all the spiritual gifts and 
performances are of no effect. 

Though you could speak with the tongues of men and 
angels, though you had the gift of prophecy and under- 
stood all mysteries and all knowledge, and though you 
had all faith so that you could remove mountains, and 
have not charity, if you will believe the apostle you are 
nothing. Nay, though you give all your goods to feed 
the poor, and though you give your body to be burned, 
and have not charity, it profiteth nothing. Numberless 
are the like passages in the Holy Scripture which enforce 
this duty in the strongest and most urgent terms. How 
careful then ought we to be to understand this main pointy 
and how diligent to put it in practice \ 

This charity, without which it is vain to hope for salva- 
tion, is understood by too many to consist only in be— 
stowing some trifling part of their fortune on their poo^r 
neighbours, which in the expenses of the year is never" 
felt. But by the words last cited from St. Paul you may 
see that it is possible for a man to give all his goods to 
the poor and yet want charity. That indeed is a laudable 
part or rather effect of charity, but it does not complete 
the entire nature of it. To the end you may not be mis- 

' On the opposite page of the the true nature of charity, it never- 

MS. there is the following passage, theless cannot be denied to be a 

without any mark of reference : — part or branch thereof, or rather 

* But altho* the giving of our goods an outward and visible effect of 

to the poor be not that which that inward grace which is the 

alone constitutes and comprehends life of a true Christian/ 


taken in this, take the following description of it from the 
same inspired author: 'Charity suffereth long; and is 
kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, 
is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh 
not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, 
rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth ; beareth 
all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.' What 
then snail we say of those Christians who envy the 
prosperity of other men, who take fire at the least pro- 
vocation, and are so far from suffering long, that they 
are for revenging the smallest injury with death, and 
cannot have satisfaction for a rash word till they have 
spilled the blood of him that spoke it. In fine, what shall 
I think of that censorious humoiu', that austere pride, 
that sullen, unsociable disposition wluch some people mis- 
take for religion ; whereas, on the contrary, gentleness, 
S^d-nature, and humanly are so far from being incon- 
sistent with the true spirit of religion, that they are en- 
joined as the indispensable duty of all who call upon the 
name of Christ ? 

As men are very apt to flatter themselves that God is 
to be put off with any slight performance of duty, they 
think that so long as they do not rob or murder or swear 
their neighbour out of his life, there is nothing more 
required in order to make them charitable. How charitable 
are ye that are so jealous of your own interests, you that 
are so punctilious in point of honour and freedom, you 
that are thus pleased with scandal, that suck in with delight 
every idle report that tends to discredit or blast the 
reputation of your neighbour, that rejoice in any failings 
and are [never happier than] at the expense of one an- 
other. Hear what St. James saith, ' If any man among 
you seem to be religious and bridleth not his tongue, 
but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain.' 
And if injurious words are certain marks of a reprobate 
nrind, how much more so are bloody quarrels, vexatious 
[habits?], with all those hellish contrivances to supplant 
and destroy each other which we see daily practised in 
the world ? 

As men are never wanting to excuse ill actions and 
PaBiate their faults with one pretext or other, I doubt not 
It is very possible some among you make [may] think it a 




sufBcient excuse for calumny and slander that it is used 
only to pass away the time, for mirth's sake, and now 
and then to season conversation. But know, O Christian I 
that the mirth you find in hearing and telling malicious 
stories, in magnifying every little fault of your neighbour, 
and putting the worst interpretation on all his actions, 
is a mirth unbecoming your profession, it is inconsistent 
with that charity without which you cannot be saved, and 
however you may do these things in jest, you will be 
punished for them in earnest. 

It may perhaps be pretended as an excuse for the want 
of charity, that you have to do with men of ill natures, of 
rough and untractable tempers, and who have no charity 
themselves for other men. But what says our Saviour, 
'If ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? 
do not even the publicans the same ? ' And surely it is 
but just to expect that you who are instructed by the 
example and precepts of the Son of God, who are ani- 
mated with the blessed hope of eternity, who are delivered 
from the power of darkness, and called to be partakers 
of the inheritance of the saints in light, should practise 
a higher strain of virtue than publicans and heathens who 
are destitute of all these advantages ? But others make 
free with your reputation, or have injured you in your 
estate or person, and it is reasonable ypu should make 
reprisals. But consider, O Christian, whether it be more 
reasonable in such a case by obeying the uneasy, sinful 
motions of anger and revenge to expose yourselves to the 
wrath of Almighty God, or by la3dng hold of that fair 
opportunity which is given you to put in practice these 
Christian virtues of meekness, patience, forgiving injuries, 
and returning good for evil ; turning the designed injuries 
of an enemy into the greatest blessings that could befall 

If we would behave ourselves as becomes the disciples 

of Christ, we must open and enlarge our hearts towards 

the whole mass of mankind. ' Ye have heard that it hath 

been said. Love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy.' 

Our Lord says, 'Love your enemies.' And if we ought to 

I love our enemies, whom ought we not to love ? We must 

I therefore above all things be sure to preserve in our souls 

'.Si constant universal benevolence which extends itself to 


alljhe sons of men . Our charity must not be limited 
to any secr"of"party ; Turk and Jew, infidel and idolater, 
and much more the several subdivisions of Christians, are 
to be the object of our love and good wishes. It is the 
unhappiness and reproach of Christendom that we are 
crumbled into so many sects and parties ; but whatever 
grounds or pretences we may have for keeping at a 
distance from each other in point of opinion, yet for 
heaven's sake let us be united in the bands of love and 
charity. Let us not upon the [ground ?] of controverted 
notions transgress and trample under foot the most 
unquestioned fundamentals of religion. In fine, let us 
carefully distinguish between the sentiments and the 
person of our neighbour, and while we condemn the one 
be sure that we love the other ; ever remembering that 
charity is the principal duty of a Christian, without which 
all other pretensions to purity of faith or sanctity of life 
avail nothing at all. 

And, as difference in opinion can never justify an un- 
charitable conduct towards those who differ from us, so 
neither can difference of interests. My neighbour rivals 
me in point of riches or honour ; he aims at the same 
employment or carries on the same trade that I do, or 
there is some difference between us in point of money. 
In fine, his prosperity interferes with mine. What then ! 
shall I therefore swell with malice, envy, and discontent, 
and instead of being a child of God, transform myself into 
a fiend of hell ? We must by all means mortify and 
subdue that base principle of self-love whose views are 
always turned inwards, which, instead of prompting us to 
good offices towards our neighbour, will not allow us to 
have good wishes to any but ourselves. It is interest 
that sets the world together by the ears, that makes us 
hreak (?) with our bosom friends, that fills our hearts with 
jealousy and disquiet ; no personal merit, no ties of con- 
sanguinity, no past obligations, are strong enough to 
oppose the resolutions that it inspires. So long therefore 
as that continues the governing principle of our lives and , 

actions, we cannot hope to be any great proficients in the ^^^ 
necessary and essential duty of charity. Hen ce we must ^f, ^\'^ 
learn to wean ourselves from our self-interest, or rather 4^ ^\^i^'^ 
leafn wherein our true interest consists. ,)^.>^ 

p 2 




And this leads me to the second point proposed, namely, 
to shew the good oiGces that charity is attended with, and 
how much it conduceth to the interest of those who 
practise it. 

However mistaken, men may be too apt to place their 
chiefest interest in the slight pleasures and transient en- 
joyments of this life, in the gratification of some passion, 
or the gaining of some temporal advantage, yet a man who 
considers things with any fairness or impartiality will be 
easily convinced that his chief interest consists in obeying 
Almighty God, in conforming his life and actions to the 
will and command of his Creator who first gave him being 
and still continues to preserve it, whose free gift are all 
the good things he can enjoy, and who has promised to 
reward our obedience in this life with eternal happiness 

But because the spiritual nature of God, though most 

near and immediately operating on our souls and bodies, 

is yet invisible to our senses, and because the riches of 

that place where there is no moth nor rust, and where 

thieves do not break through and steal, are placed at 

a distance from our present state, and that men are more 

powerfully influenced by things which are present and 

sensible, I shall therefore, waiving all other considerations, 

apply myself to consider the advantages which the practice 

of charity is attended with, and how much it conduces to 

, ^ the happiness of men in this present state. 

\ The good effects of charity may be considered either 

\^ with respect to public communities of men, or with respect 

^ to private persons. As to the first, the advantages of an 

\ amiable correspondence between different nations are 

"^ f V plainly to be seen in traffic and commerce, whereby the 

\f y>' product of each particular soil is communicated to distant 

y countries, useful inventions are made common and flourish, 

rJ^ and men mutually supply the wants of each other. But 

when the spirit of ambition or revenge begins to operate, 

when jealousy of each other's wealth and power divides 

nations and breaks the bonds of charity, then all those 

advantages are interrupted, and men, instead of promoting 

each other's benefit, are employed in destroying one 

another. Whole provinces are laid waste ; cities, palaces, 

and churches, the work of many ages, are in an instant 


demolished and burnt to the ground : thousands of widows 
and orphans are made in one day ; and he who makes the 
greatest havock of his fellow-Christians is esteemed most 
worthy of renown and honour. After an infinity of rapes, 
murders, rapines, sacrileges, when fire and sword have 
spent their rage, and are glutted with human blood, the 
dreadful scene often ends in plague or famine, as the 
natural consequences of war. But, alas! we can only 
bewail these things without any hopes of reforming them. 
The commands of God are on all sides forgotten, and 
when two armies are on the point of engaging, a man 
would be laughed at who should put them in mind of our 
Saviour's precept, ' By this shall all men know that ye are 
My disciples, if ye have love one to another.' 

But although all orders of men are involved in these 
public calamities, yet few there are in whose power it is to 
remedy or prevent them, whereas it is in the power of 
every one of us to avoid those infinite mischiefs which 
arise in private life from a defect of charity. 

As different countries are by their respective products 
fitted to supply each other's wants, so the all-wise provi- 
dence of God hath ordered that different men are endowed 
with various talents, whereby they are mutually enabled 
to assist and promote the happiness of one another. Thus 
one has health and strength of body, another enjoys the 
faculties of his mind in greater perfection ; one hath 
riches, another hath learning. This man is fitted for 
a public station, that for the oeconomy of a private life. 
One man is skilled in this art or profession, another in 
|hat [Note to say that in many instances the single act, 
industry, or power of every one is ineffectual when the 
united endeavours of many might avail.] There are in 
4e various qualifications panics, occasions by 

which a man is rendered capable to give or receive assist- 
^ce from his neighbour. Hence it is that men find it 
necessary to unite in friendships and societies, to do 
mutual good offices and carry on the same designs in 
harmony and concert. We relieve one another in distress, 
we bear with each other's infirmities, we study to promote 
4e advantage of each other; that is, in our Saviour's 
phrase, 'we have love one to the other.' And so long 
3s we continue thus disposed peace and plenty abound. 


families live comfortably together, our affairs thrive and 
flourish in the world, which gives a blessing to our en- 
deavours ; every one finds his own interest in advancing 
that of his neighbour. 

Whereas the reverse of this happy state must certainly 
be expected when men of ill natures and uncharitable 
tempers are always [envying ?] the prosperity and thwart- 
ing the designs of each other, where men endeavour to 
raise their own fortunes and reputations by destroying 
those of their neighbours, and instead of sweet and friendly 
conversation entertain one another with satire and invec- 
tives. Take a view of the greatest evils that afflict man- 
kind, and you will find that they spring from the want of 
charity. What factions and cabals, what fierce ments, 

what dire, revengeful ruptures in families, [what dis- 
agreejments between friends and neighbours take their 
rise from this source. It is not for nothing that our 
blessed Saviour was so instant in recommending the grace 
of charity by His preaching and example ; it is not for 
nothing that the holy apostles insist in almost every page 
of their epistles upon charity as the principal of Christian 
virtues, the mark of our calling, the distinguishing badge 
of our profession. It is for want of this that we see so 
much poverty, so much care, so much sorrow, so much 
bloodshed in the world. It is for want of this that when 
we have made peace abroad, we worry and destroy each 
other at home ; that those which have escaped the [perils 
of] a war are often thrown over, and the blood 

which remained unspilt by the enemies of our country is 
too often poured out to satiate the revenge of a country- 
man and a neighbour. But, alas ! we can only bewail 
these things without any hope of reforming them; and 
when two Christians are on the point of sacrificing each 
other's lives to a private pique, he would be laughed at 
who should put them in mind of our Saviour's saying, 
' By this shall all men know that ye are My disciples, if 
you love one another.* 

It is most certain that the practice of any vice or the 
commission of any moral crime is attended with immediate 
punishment in this life. The infinitely wise providence 
of God hath joined moral and [physical ?] evil together. 
Some inward uneasiness of mind, some outward pain of 


body, severe loss in reputation or fortune, or the like, is 
visibly annexed to sin, to deter men from the practice of 
it. This and the [vengeance?] go to [shew] the sinner 
both here an what he is to expect hereafter. How 

tnie this is with regard to uncharitableness is partly [seen] 
from what has been already, of the outward calamities, 
both public and private, which it is attended with, and it 
will be more so if we consider the inward uneasiness 
of those passions which are opposite to charity. How 
painfully does avarice vex and corrode the soul ! What 
a knawing [gnawing] anguish breaks the slumbers and 
palls all the enjoyments of an envious man. How is it 
possible that he should eat his bread with pleasure when 
mortified and disappointed at every good event that befalls 
his neighbours ? Or can there be any joy, any repose in 
a mind under the visitation of rage, or that feels the cruel 
appetite of revenge, or is ever haunted with ill wishes to 
others or just fears for itself? There is not surely in 
nature a more wretched state than that of a perverse, 
ill-tempered, uncharitable man ; he is always upon the 
rack ; his heart is a perpetual prey to the most restless 
and tormenting passions. But, on the other hand, can 
there be any state of mind more happy and delightful than 
that of the charitable person ? He looks on mankind as 
his friends, and is therefore so far from being mortified, 
that he rejoices at their prosperity, and reckons it an' ' ^r 
addition to his own good fortune. As he wishes no harm*\ .^ 
to his neighbour, so he hath hopes of being relieved or ^.> 
assisted by them in any exigence. Every act of charity *^ 

and beneficence carries its own reward with it — a sense 
of pleasing and of being acceptable to men, together with 
a secret joy flowing from the approbation of a good con- 
science, besides all which there is a certain peculiar 
pleasure and [charm] that is the natural result of a kind 
and generous behaviour. It is not easy to say whether 
a sweet, mild, and gentle disposition contributes more to 
the [joy] and satisfaction of our neighbours or to our own 
private tranquillity and delight, since as the opposite pas- 
sions ruffle and discompose, so charity and the graces 
that attend it soothe and rejoice the soul : to be free from 
anger, envy, and revenge, to be always in good humour, 
to delight in doing good to mankind, is the height of 



happiness upon earth, and approaches the nearest to that 
of the saints in heaven \ 

[I come now to the third thing, which was to add some 
further reflexions to persuade you to the offices of charity.] 

After what has been advanced it may seem needless to 
[insist] on any further motives in order to persuade you 
to the practice of a virtue which, as it is the most necessary 
and substantial part of religion, so it is the most directly 
calculated for the advantage both of public communities 
and private men. What possible pretence can you have 
for not complying with an injunction so excellent, so eas y 
as this of loving one another? Are you afraid that to 
fulfil any part of the Christian [virtues] might expose you 
to contumely in a vicious and ungenerous world? But 
what age, what nation is so barbarous as not to honour 
a man of distinguished charity and benevolence? Are 
you eager to enjoy the good things of this life, or too 
worldly-minded to be altogether influenced by the distant 
recompenses of that which is to come ? This duty has 
been shewn most effectually to promote your present 
interests in this world? Is there anything rigid and 
^ ^austere in the exercise of virtues which may deter you 
^ s\ ^^ from the practice [of vice] ? Behold the very acts [com- 


.>^ (/ 



manded] are pleasant and delightful, and what Solomon 
says of wisdom is also true of charity, 'Her ways are ways 
of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.* 

How can you think on the baseness of an uncharitable, 
envious spirit and not despi$e it ? How can you reflect 

^ On the opposite page of the 
MS. there occurs the following 
observation : — * The whole system 
of rational beings may be con- 
sidered as one family or body 
politic ; and Providence, intending 
the good of the whole, hath con- 
nected the members together by 
the cords of a man, by the common 
ties of humanity and good nature, 
and fitted and adjusted them to 
each other for their reciprocal use 
and benefit.* 

It may interest some, as it 
shews how careful Berkeley was 
in regard to literary style, to 
have before them the following 

addition to the sermon, with the 
corrections as in the MS. : the 
words in brackets were struck out 
by him : — 

'The whole system of rational 
beings may be considered as one 
society or body politic : and Provi- 
dence, intending the [common] 
good of the whole, bath [adjusted] 
connected the members [one to 
another] together by the cords of 
a man, by the common ties of 
humanity and good-nature, and 
fitted and adjusted them [so as to 
be] to each other for their reci- 
procal use and benefit.' 


upon the mischief, the anxiety, the torment that it pro- 
duces, and not abhor it? How can you be sensible of 
God's indignation against this vice and yet be guilty of it ? 
After all, brethren, if against the express repeated com- 
mand and [injunction of J Almighty God, against the light 
and [voice] of your own conscience, against future 

interest and the common [feelings] of humanity, we continue 
to [indulge] piques and hatreds towards [others, and] will 
not, pursuant to the apostle's directions, put away from us 
all bitterness, and wrath, and clamour, and evil speaking 
with be assured that our case is desperate. Why 

should we disguise the truth ? It is fit sinners should 
know their condition while it is in their power to mend it. 
I say therefore, again, that the state of such persons is 
desperate, that they cannot hope for salvation by the holy 
covenant. For St. John plainly tells us, 'he that hateth 
his brother is in darkness even until now.* That is, not- 
withstanding the light of the Gospel has now shined in 
the world, yet such a one is in a state of heathenism, 
which in the Scriptures is named darkness. Again, he 
that knoweth not God, for God is love. ' If any man saith 
I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar.* And now 
to what purpose is it to produce any further testimony ? 
Doth not our Lord Himself tell us in the text, 'By this 
shall all men know that ye are My disciples, if ye have 
love one to another ? ' He therefore that [loveth not] is 
no disciple of Christ's ; he is, in [fact], no Christian, has 
no right to expect any share in the sufferings and inter- 
cession of Christ Jesus. Nay, I will be bold to say that 
all the evangelists, the disciples, and our blessed Lord 
Himself had not so frequently, so expressly, so urgently 
declared this great truth to us, yet it would have been 
discovered by the light of nature that an uncharitable 
person could not be saved. Strife, calumny, revenge, 
envy, prepare and fit one for [the company] of devils. 
A spirit with these [passions can be] no company for saints 
and angels even in heaven itself where [all is] love, joy, 

You, Christians, seriously consider what has been said. 
Let it not be an idle dream in your fancies [let it sink 
down into] your hearts and influence all your actions. 
* Put on (as the elect of God, holy and beloved) bowels of 


mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long- 
suffering; forbearing one another and forgiving one an- 
other, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ 
forgave you, so also do ye. And above all things, put on 
charity, which is the bond of perfectness.' So will the 
good providence of God protect and bless you during the 
course of this mortal life, and at the last day you will be 
owned for true disciples of the kind and merciful Jesus : 
to whom with Thee, O Father, and the Holy Ghost be all 
glory \ 

* Towards the end of this Towards the conclusion of the Ser- 

Sermon a few spaces are left blank. mon, a large portion of it is legible 

This arises from the state of the only under a strong light, and 

MS., which in this part is much even then with difficulty, while 

injured, probably by salt water, words are occasionally obliterated, 

in the course of Berkeley's voyages They can generally be supplied by 

in the Mediterranean or afterwards. the reader. 


1717 ; ALSO IN APRIL, 1718 

First published in 187 1 




Next to the juvenile Commonplace Book, this Journal 
of Berkeley's life in Italy, during his second visit to that 
country, contained in four small manuscript volumes, is 
the most important of the Berkeley MSS. that were first 
published in 1871, in my former edition of the Works. It 
contains a daily record of his movements in 1717, during 
most of January, and parts of May, June, and September; 
also on some days of April, 17 18. He had left England 
for Italy in November, 1716, in company with young Ashe, 
his pupil, son of the Bishop of Clogher. The travellers 
seem to have reached Rome about the end of that year. 
The Journal begins on January 7, 1717, and records their 
sight-seeing in Rome during eighteen following days 
(pp. 225-48). The story is resumed in another volume, 
on May 5, when they were about to leave Naples for 
a tour in little frequented parts of Calabria, which lasted 
till June 9, when they returned to Naples. Of this 
excursion we have here the daily record. Memoranda of 
the road from Rome to Naples, undated, are recorded in 
another volume, followed by notes relating to the romantic 
Island of Ischia or Inarime, where, as he mentions in a 
letter to Pope which I have introduced, they passed * three 
or four months' of that summer, and where, it seems 
by the Journal, they still were in September. The record 
of a three days* journey on the road from Naples to 
Rome in April, 1718, completes what has been preserved 


of Berkeley's lta\ia,n /ournal. The latest date is April 13, 
1 718, when the travellers returned to Rome from Naples. 

We have got only fragments. The manuscript volumes 
which have disappeared might have informed us of the 
daily proceedings of the travellers in other months of 
1717 and 1718, and in 1719, which is a total blank; also 
in 1720, when they returned through France to London 
in the end of the year. The missing volumes, including 
memoranda of Berkeley's reported tour in Sicily, as it 
seems in 1 718-19, have perhaps shared the fate of the 
Second Part of the Principles, which was lost at sea. 

The volumes which remain seem to have been Berke- 
ley's travelling companions, partly written in his carriage ; 
for sometimes the record is in pencil, yet not illegible. 
The Journal is kept on the right-hand pages; the left 
are reserved for quotations and occasional notes, which 
when here printed appear within brackets, with M 
(Marginal Note) attached. In dating the Journal Berke- 
ley, it will be observed, followed the Roman fashion, by 
adopting the reformed Gregorian Calendar, adding N. S. 
to the date, although it was not till 1752 that this change 
was made in England. 

The Journal illustrates Berkeley's habit of minute and 
careful observation of nature and passing events; his 
keen interest in art, especially architecture; and his dis- 
position to scientific investigations, in directions which 
shew much individuality. Ischia was to him fairy-land, 
in which he revelled in that summer of 171 7. Volcanic 
phenomena were another attraction, as appears in the 
Journal, in his criticism of the physical speculations of 
Borellus, and in his letter to Arbuthnot. Above all, the 
phenomena which followed the bite of the tarantula were 
inquired into with anxious care, on every opportunity, 
yet without much result. He inclines to the belief that 
the bite of this spider occasions a desire for dancing, 
the tarantula dance being followed by cure, a conclusion 


hardly confirmed by later observations, and which pro- 
bably allows too little for the work of imagination in the 
patient. But Berkeley's observations and reports are char- 
acteristic, whatever science may now have to say regarding 
the phenomena. 

Not much light is thrown by this Journal on the social 
or ecclesiastical condition of Italy in 1717 ; nor does 
it often clothe the places visited with their historical 
associations, or speculate on history. Yet it shews some 
familiarity with classical literature, in the references 
to ancient geographers and historians, Roman poets, and 
modem Italian books. 

On the whole, these fragments of Berkeley's Journal 
in Italy throw a more vivid light upon the incidents of his 
daily experience in the period to which they relate than 
has fallen upon any other equal portion of the sixty-eight 
years of his life. 


[Rome] Jan. 7, 171 7. N.S. 

This morning I paced a gallery in the Vatican four 
hundred and eighty-eight paces long. We saw the famous 
library in that palace. It contains seventy-two thousand 
volumes, MSS. and printed. The building surely is not 
to be equalled in that kind, being nobly propor tioned and 
painted by the best hands. It is in this form ■ the 

greatest length about eight hundred foot. The books are 
all contained in desks or presses, whose backs stand to the 
wall. These desks are all low, of an equal height, so that 
the highest books are within reach without the least strain- 
ing. We saw a Virgil in MS. above fourteen hundred 
years old. It wanted the four disputed verses in the be- 
ginning of the ^neid. They shewed us another that 
seemed of an earlier date, but it was imperfect. Both 
these books were written in great letters without any space 
between the words. The first had inter-punctuations, the 
other none : both were illuminated with pictures, but those 
of the former were much more barbarous than the other, 
which is lookTed] on as an argument that it is less ancient. 
We saw a Terence of much the same age, as we could 
judge by the character. A Septuagint of great antiquity 
with accents, Uteris uncialibus. Henry the VII Ts love 
letters to Anna Boleyn ; and his book against Luther, 
which procured him the title of Defender of the Faith. In 
his letter to the pope prefixed to this treatise he plainly 
assumes the composition of it to himself (which I observe, 
because it is doubted by some). The book is fairly 
writ on vellum : it is subscribed by the king's own hand. 
The epistle dedicatory is full of respect to the pope. I 
read the first chapter. His arguments are altogether ad 



hominem and ad verecundiam. The style is better than 
the reasoning, which shews the prince and the soldier 
rather than the scholar. In the afternoon we saw the 
statues in Belvedere part of the Vatican. The principal 
are Cleopatra, Apollo (found in the Baths of Caracalla), the 
famous Laocoon, and Antinous. These are all master- 
pieces of antiquity. The Apollo and Laocoon can never 
be enough admired. 

Jan. 8. 

A little after the seventeenth hour Mr. Ashe and I 
waited on Cardinal Gualtieri. He, as the greatest part of 
the Roman cardinals and nobles, hath his apartments up 
two pairs of stairs, which they esteem for the goodness of 
the air. In the antechamber we met with a good number 
of gentlemen, lay as well as ecclesiastic. I signified to 
a gentleman (a knight of some order, for every cardinal 
hath knights and counts for his domestics) that we wished 
to kiss his eminence's hands ; upon which he conducted 
us into an inner spacious chamber with a fire (which is no 
common thing in Italy) : another gentleman was charged 
with the message to the cardinal, who immediately came 
to us. He is about sixty, a jolly well-looking man, grey 
hair, rather low than tall, and rather fat than lean. He 
entertained us with a great deal of frankness and civility. 
We sate all in armed chairs round the fire. We were no 
sooner seated, but his eminence obliged us to put on our 
hats, which we did without ceremony, and he put on his 
cardinal's square cap. We discoursed on several subjects, 
as the affairs of England, those of the Turks and Venetians, 
and several other topics, in all which his eminence shewed 
himself a man of sense, good breeding, and good humour. 
He occasionally told us a curious point of natural history. 
The pope every morning regales the cardinals with a 
present of his own bread. This bread used to be excellent 
when his holiness lived at the Vatican, but upon his 
removal to Monte Cavallo, though the same bakers, the 
same water, and the same corn were employed, yet it was 
found impossible to make the bread so good there as it 
was at the Vatican, which the cardinal did imagine to 
proceed from some unaccountable quality in the air. He 

AT ROME 227 

talked to us of the carnival, and invited us very civilly to 
see the triumphs out of a balcony in his palace, which he 
told us stood very conveniently. When by our silence we 
shewed an inclination to be going, his eminence took off 
his cap and said he would no longer abuse our patience. 
It is not reckoned manners to break off a visit to a cardinal 
before you are dismissed by him. The form being in that 
as in other points to treat them as crowned heads, to whom 
they are esteemed equal. In the afternoon we went to 
the Villa Borghese. I liked the gardens, they are large, 
have fine cut walks, white deer, statues, fountams, groves ; 
nothing of the little French gout, no parterres. If they 
are not so spruce and trim as those in France and England, 
they are nobler and, I think, much more agreeable. The 
house is noble, and hath the richest outside that I have 
anywhere seen, being enchased with beautiful relievos of 
antiquity. The portico was furnished with old chairs, 
very entire, being of hard stone, coloured red in some 
places and gilt in others, carved too with several devices. 
It was too dark to see the pictures, so we put off viewing 
the inside to another time. 

Jan. 9. 

Our first visit this day was to the sepulchre of Cestius. 
This building is pyramidal, of great smoothed pieces of 
marble. A considerable part of it is now underground, 
but what appears is about a hundred foot in length, each 
side of the square basis, and about a hundred and fifty the 
side of the p3a*amid. There is a chamber within in which 
there have been not many years ago several antique 
figures painted in fresco. They are now defaced and the 
entrance made up. This monument lies between the 
Mons Aventinus and the Mons Testaceus. Having viewed 
the sepulchre of Cestius, we ascended the Mons Testaceus, 
from whence we had a fair prospect of Rome. This 
mount was formed in the time of old Rome by the potters, 
who had this place appointed them for heaping together 
their rubbish, to prevent their choking the Tiber. You 
see the mount to be made up of bits of broken potsherds. 
After this we went along the Via Ostiensis (of which we 
could still see some remains) to St. Paul's church. By 



the wayside we saw a chapel with a bas-relief representing 
the parting embrace between St. Peter and St. Paul. The 
inscription tells you this is the spot where those holy 
martyrs were parted as they went to their martyrdom, the 
one (St. Peter) turning to the right to Montorio, the other 
going to the Tre Fontane. St. Paul's church, which 
stands above a mile out of the town, was built by Con- 
stantine: there are nevertheless two ranges of noble 
Corinthian pillars on both sides of the great isle, that 
seem too elegant for that age, in which the arts were much 
on the decline. Probably they belonged to some more 
ancient building. On the floor of this church we saw a 
column of white marble in shape of a candlestick, for 
which purpose it had been made in Constantine's time. 
It was all over adorned with very rude sculpture. Under 
the great altar there lie one half of the bodies of St. Peter 
and St. Paul (the other half being under the great altar 
of St. Peter's). The rude painting and mosaic deserves 
no regard. I must not forget that this church is very 
rich in indulgences. We read in an inscription on the 
wall, that an indulgence of above six thousand years was 
got by a visit to that church on any ordinary day, but 
a plenary remission on Christmas and three or four other 
days. Tasked a priest that stood by whether by virtue of 
that remission a man was sure of going straight to heaven 
without touching at purgatory, in case he should then die. 
His answer was that he certainly would. From this 
church we went to that of the Three Fountains, four miles 
from Rome southward. This is a small church built in 
the place where St. Paul was beheaded. They shewed us 
in a corner of the church the very pillar of white marble 
on which his head was cut off. The head, say they, made 
three leaps, and a fountain sprung up at each leap. These 
fountains are now shewn in the church, and strangers 
never fail to drink of them, there being an indulgence 
(I think) of a hundred years attending that function. The 
altar-piece of this church is finely painted by Guido Reni. 
At a small distance from this church there is another 
called Scala Coeli, from a vision of St. Bernard's, who, 
say they, as he was celebrating mass in this place saw 
angels drawing the souls in purgatory up to heaven. This 
vision we saw painted in the church. Underneath, they 

AT ROME 229 

tell you, are interred 10303 Christian soldiers with the 
Tribune Zeno, who were picked out of the Roman army 
and martyred in this place. All these odd things are not 
only told by the monks or friars, but inscribed in marble 
in the churches. 

Jan. 10. 

Mr. Hardy, the Abbate Barbieri, Mr. Ashe, and I went 
this morning to see the famous Farnesian Palace. The 
gallery so much spoken of proved smaller than I expected, 
but the painting is excellent ; it is all over done in fresco 
by Annibal Carache. Here and in other parts of the 
palace we saw several fine antique busts and statues. 
The principal are the Hercules, commonly called the 
Farnesian Hercules, the Flora, the bust of Caracalla, 
the flesh whereof is wonderfully soft and natural, and 
an admirable group of Zethus, Amphion, Antiope, Dirce, 
and a bull, all out of one stone, done by two R[h]odians. 
The two young men, sons of the Theban king, tie Dirce 
to the bull's horns in order to precipitate her into a well 
(as the inscription on a tablet hung by the statue tells you). 
The bull and the men are incomparably well done, but 
there is little expression in the face of Dirce, which makes 
me suspect the head to be modern. The easiness, the 
strength, the beauty, and the muscles of the Hercules 
cannot be too much admired. The drapery of the Flora 
is admirable, and the bust of Antoninus Caracalla is flesh 
and blood — nothing can be softer. In the afternoon we 
drove out of town through the Porta Collatina, leaving 
LucuUus's gardens on the left hand and Sallustius's on 
the right. We got by three a clock of our reckoning to 
the Villa Borghese. The outside and gardens we had 
seen before; we spent this afternoon in viewing the 
apartments. The greatest part of the pictures are copies. 
1 remember some good ones of Corregio, and the famous 
Battle of Constantine by Julio Romano. In the apart- 
ments of this villa we saw several excellent statues : those 
most remarkable of the antique are the Hermaphrodite, 
the Gladiator, and, on the outside of the wall, that of 
Curtius on horseback leaping into the cavern. I must 
not forget three statues of Bernini in these apartments, 
that raise my idea of that modern statuary almost to an 


equality with the famous ancients — Apollo and Daphne, 
iEneas with Anchises on his shoulders, David going to 
fling the stone at Goliah. The grace, the softness, and 
expression of these statues is admirable. In our return 
we took a walk round part of the walls of the city. Both 
walls and turrets were pretty entire on that side. They 
have stood since Justinian's time, having been built by 
Bellisarius. We entered the city at the Porta Viminalis, 
stepped into the Victoria, a beautiful church encrusted 
with ornaments of the richest stones, as jallo antico, verde 
antico, jaspers, &c. In this are hung up trophies taken 
from the Turks. After this, we paid a second visit to 
Dioclesian's Baths, admiring the lofty remains of that 
stupendous fabric, which is now possessed by the Car- 
thusians. In the pavement of the church, made out of the 
standing part of the baths, we saw a meridian line (like 
that of Bologna) drawn by the learned Bianchini. 

Jan. II. 

This morning Mr. Domvile and I spent in looking for 
Greek books. The shops are but ill furnished, and give 
one a mean idea of the Roman literature. In the afternoon 
we took the air on the Mons Quirinalis — drove by Mont- 
alto's gardens towards S. Maria Maggiore and S. John 

Jan. 12. 

In the forenoon I took a walk on the mount behind 
our lodging, on which stands the church and convent of 
La Trinita, overlooking the Piazza d'Espagne, anciently 
the Naumachia Domitiana. From thence I had a good 
prospect of Monte Cavallo, St. Peter's, and the inter- 
mediate parts of the town. When I had amused myself 
some time here, I walked towards the Porta del Popolo, 
where we first entered the town. By the way I stepped 
into the church dedicated to St. Ambrose and St. Charles. 
I viewed some good pictures in it. It hath a dome and 
a handsome facade. The Piazza del Popolo is contrived 
to give a traveller a magnificent impression of Rome upon 
his first entrance. The Guglio^ in the middle, the two 

* Berkeley writes Guglio. The usual form is Guglia, which also 
means a needle. 

AT ROME 231 

teautiful churches of the same architecture that front the 

entrance, standing on either side of the end of the Corso, 

or great street directly opposite to the gate, carrying the 

eye in a straight line through the middle of the city almost 

to the Capitol ; while on the sides there strike off two 

other straight streets, inclined in equal angles to the 

Corse, the one leading to the Piazza d'Espagne, the other 

towards the Piazza Navona. From the Guglio your 

prospect shoots through these three streets. All this 

1 say is contrived to produce a good effect on the eye 

of a new-comer. The disposition, it must be owned, is 

pleasing, and if the ordinary houses that make up the 

greatest part of the streets were more agreeable and 

regular, would make a very noble prospect. The Guglio or 

Obelisk in the middle of the Piazza is a noble monument 

brought from Egypt and set up in the Circus Maximus by 

Augustus Cesar, where it was dug up in the time of Sixtus 

Quintus, and by order of that pope set upon [a] pedestal 

in this place and dedicated to the cross. It was the same 

pope that caused the greatest part, if not all, the guglios 

to be erected in the several piazzas of Rome, e. g. in the 

Piazza Navona, Piazza di S. Pietro, Piazza di S. Maria 

Maggiore, before the Minerva, &c. The greatest, as 

everybody knows, is that in the Piazza of St. Peter. Most 

of these obelisks are scribbled over with hieroglyphics. 

They are each of a single piece of granite. Nothing can 

give one a higher notion of the stupendous magnificence 

of the old Egyptian monarchs who made these obelisks 

than that the Roman emperors in their greatest glory 

valued themselves upon bringing them from Egypt; and 

the most spirited of the popes looked upon it as the 

greatest event of his life to be able to place one of them 

on its pedestal. In the afternoon we walked to the Piazza 

di Navona, inquired for books, and viewed the fa9ades of 

several palaces by the way. Over the doors of the palaces 

of the cardinals, princes, and public ministers there hang 

up several coats of arms, whereof the pope regnant's is 

sure to be one; e.g. over Ottoboni*s portal we saw the 

arms of his Holiness, the arms of France because he is 

protector of the French nation, those of Venice because 

he is a Venetian, and those of the S. P. Q. R. 


Jan. 13. 

Mr. Hardy, Mr. Ashe, and myself drove in the forenoon 
to St. Peter's, where we entertained ourselves in reviewing 
and examining the structure, with the statues and pictures 
that adorn it. Of the pictures, those which most pleased 
me were a St. Sebastian of Dominiquin and the Assumption 
of St. Petronilla by Quercino, the chiaro-oscuro of the 
latter giving it so strong a relief that it deceives the eye 
beyond any picture in the church ; and the body of 
St. Sebastian is a very fine figure. The expression too 
of the bystanders, particularly a commanding soldier on 
horseback, is admirable. Having seen the palace of 
Farnese and the Borghesian villa since my being last at 
St. Peter's, the statues did not near please me now so 
much as then. You may see grace, beauty, and a fine 
attitude in these statues of Algardi, Porta, Bernini, &c. 
They have sometimes a fine. expression in the face; but 
on a near inspection you perceive nothing so finished, 
none of those delicate contours, those softnesses, that life 
and breath that you discover in the fine antiques. The 
best statue in St. Peter's, in my judgment, is the Dead 
Christ of M. Angelo Bonaroti. I must not forget an old 
Gothic iron statue of St. Peter that stands in one side 
of the great isle, the feet whereof are much worn away 
by kissing. We saw a soldier not only kiss the feet, but 
also rub his head and face upon them. From St. Peter's 
we went to the Loggie of the Vatican to view Raphael's 
pictures there, which detained us till it was passed dinner 
time. We saw nothing after dinner. 

Jan. 14. 

In the morning Dr. Chenion, Mr. Hardy, Mr. Ashe, 
and I entertained ourselves with the sight of the palace 
of Don Livio Odescalchi, Duke of Bracciano ; where we 
saw in the upper apartments a great number of fine 
pictures by the best masters. I remarked particularly 
a famous one of Raphael's, said to have cost fourteen 
thousand crowns : it is a small piece of the Blessed Virgin, 
with two puttini, our Saviour and St. John Baptist : it is 
full of life and grace. Below stairs we saw several vaulted 

AT ROME 233 

chambers well furnished with statues, ancient and modern, 
as well as with many beautiful pillars of antique stone, 
the mines whereof are now either exhausted or unknown. 
From thence we went to the palace of Prince Borghese. 
This is a vast palace, the salons and chambers spacious and 
lofty, as well as many in number : there is particularly 
one fine vista through nine rooms, that is lengthened by 
a hole cut through an adjacent house (which the prince 
bought for that purpose) to a fountain and a beautiful 
passage. In this palace we saw an incredible number of 
fine pictures. They are reckoned to be seventeen hundred. 
Many portraits by Titian that seemed to breathe. Fine 
soft graceful pieces of Corregio. Excellent ones of Raphael, 
Annibal Carache, Quercino, Guido Reni, Reubens, Lan- 
franc, Paul Veronese, &c. I must particularly remark that 
famous piece of Titian*s, where Venus is represented 
binding Cupid's eyes. They shewed us two pictures, the 
one said to be nine hundred years old : the other since 
the days of Romulus ; it is on metal in a barbarous taste, 
and represents the rape of the Sabines. In the garden 
we saw several water- works and statues. In the afternoon 
we visited churches, particularly the Pantheon, and the 
two principal churches of the Jesuits, that of Jesus and 
that of St. Ignatius. The eye is never weary with viewing 
the Pantheon. Both the rotunda itself and the vestibule 
discover new beauties every time we survey them. The 
beauty and delicacy of the pillars of jallo antico within, 
as well as the grandeur, the nobleness, and the grace of 
the granite pillars without, cannot be too much admired. 
Over the great altar in the upper end of the church we 
saw a repository, in which they say is contained a picture 
of the Madonna by Saint Luke. They pretend to have 
SIX or seven more by the same hand in other churches 
of Rome, but they are kept shut up (as well as the image 
of our Saviour at St. Paul's Church that spoke to 
St. Bridget), so that it is hardly possible to get a sight 
of them except at some extraordinary time when they are 
exposed out of devotion. The church of St. Ignatius is 
nchly painted. The ceiling is raised by the perspective 
of Padre Pozzo, and a cupola is so represented by the 
s^e hand in perspective that it wonderfully deceives 
the eye as one walks towards it from the door along the 


great isle. The fine altar, consecrated to one Gonzago 
a Jesuit (styled Beatus only, as not being yet canonized), 
is well worth seeing ; the ^ulpture is fine, and the pillars 
very rich, wreathed ofverde antico; the floor of that chapel 
paved with the richest stones, as verde antico, jallo antico, &c. 
Here are likewise to be seen beautiful pillars of jasper, with 
counter-pillars of alabaster. I have already spoken of 
the church of Jesus, and the rich altar in it. I shall only 
observe that as these two churches are dedicated to the 
two patrons of the order, they seem to shew a greater 
respect to Ignatius Loyola than to our blessed Saviour, — the 
church of the former being much the greater and finer of 
the two ; besides that in the church of Jesus the glorious 
rich altar is dedicated to St. Ignatius. 

Jan. 15. 

In the forenoon we paid a visit to the Capitol, where 
we met Dr. Chenion and Mr. Hardy. Having surveyed 
the statue of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Pius on horse- 
back, which we had often seen before, we went up to the top 
of the convent belonging to Ara Coeli, where we delighted 
ourselves for some time with the prospect of Rome, the 
Campagna, and the Apennine. Amongst other hills, I took 
particular notice of Soracte. 

*Vides ut alta stet nive Candida [sic], 
Soracte.' Hor, 

It is a mountain towards the north-east, in shape some- 
thing like a sugar-loaf. Having puzzled one another with 
questions on the buildings, and run over the seven hills, 
we visited the church famous for its having an altar built 
in that very place where Augustus offered incense Primo- 
genito filio Dei, by the admonition (say they) of the Sybil 
and a vision of the Blessed Virgin with the infant Christ 
in her arms in a golden circle in the heavens, which an 
old friar assured us Augustus saw in that same place, and 
as an inscription round the altar testifies. From thence 
we went to see some statues in the Capitol a third time. 
I remarked particularly two graceful Muses antique on 
one of the staircases. After that we paid a visit to the 
Tarpeian rock, which we all agreed was high and steep 
enough to break either the late Bp. Burnet's or any man 

AT ROME 235 

else's neck who should try the experiment by leaping 
down\ In the afternoon we saw the Villa Pamphilia. 
It stands to the west of the town, in a very delightful 
situation. The gardens are neat, spacious, and kept in 
good order, adorned with statues, fountains, &c. ; but the 
prospect, with the variety of risings and vales, make 
the greatest part of the beauty. The house is small, but 
of a very pretty gusto, well furnished with statues and 
relievos (which last are set in the outside of the wall, as 
in the Villa Borghese). It is a great inconvenience to the 
persons of quality in Rome that they durst never lie in 
their villas for fear of the bad air. They only come some- 
times in the day to hunt, or divert themselves in the 
gardens. I must not forget the church of S. Pietro Mon- 
torio, where St. Peter was beheaded. In this church we 
saw the Transfiguration, the last piece designed by Raphael. 
From hence Rome is seen to the greatest advantage, the 
fa9ades of the houses meeting the eye as they fall down 
the seven hills towards the Tiber on the adverse side. 
This prospect is truly noble, and I believe the noblest 
of any city in the world. 

Jan. 16. 

This morning I spent at home. In the afternoon, 
Mr. Ashe, Mr. Hardy, and I went to see the palace of 
the Barberini. It is, I think, the noblest palace in Rome. 
The architecture is magnificent. The situation on the 
Mons Quirinalis delightful. It hath many noble chambers 
and salons, being of great extent, but without a gallery. 
1 much wonder this defect should be so common in the 
Roman palaces, a gallery being a thing of less expense 
and more beauty, as well as a fitter repository for pictures, 
than a suite of rooms which serve to no use, their families 
heing not proportioned to their palaces. This palace 
consists of two apartments, that of the Prince and that 
of the Cardinal Barberini, both extremely well furnished 
with pictures and statues, especially the latter. In this 

* This is an allusion f to Bp. curs : — * The Tarpeian Rock is now 

Burnet's * Letters from Switzer- so small a fall, that a man would 

J^nd, Italy,* &c., in which (and ed., think it no great matter, for his 

P- 338), the following passage oc- diversion, to leap over it/ &c. 


palace I could not forbear remarking the picture of a 
giostro or tournament given by Prince Barberini for the 
entertainment of the Queen of Sweden ; it cost him above 
seventy thousand crowns. The ridiculous part of it was 
to see a great number of Roman princes and cavaliers 
marching in sumptuous trappings and great order to 
attack a green dragon of pasteboard. Amongst the fine 
pictures here is an incomparable Madeleine of Guido Reni, 
reckoned the best piece that ever he did. The Madonna 
and Holy Family of Perugino is the most valuable piece 
of that painter that I have seen. His drapering every one 
knows to [be] of a little gout, and he knew nothing of the 
chiaro-oscuro. But for sweetness, grace, and beauty there 
is enough in this piece to render it admirable. I must not 
forget two excellent portraits, the one of Clara Farnese 
by Gaetano, the other by Parmeginino : it is one head of 
four in a group, that which looks directly at you. It is 
perfect life. Here is likewise a most curious piece of art, 
the bust of Urban the Eighth, done in terra cotta by a 
blind man, and well done. The antique statue of Brutus 
holding the heads of his tv\(o sons is formed upon a subject 
that should express the greatest contrast of passion, and 
yet there is nothing of it. This and another statue of 
Diogenes, both large and well preserved, shew the ancients 
had indifferent statuaries as well as the moderns. The 
Diana and Adonis of Mazzuoli, a statuary now alive in 
Rome, are both very fine, and I think equal to Bernini. 
They shewed us a piece of ancient mosaic, of Europa and 
the Bull, &c. It seemed nothing extraordinary. But the 
greatest curiosity in this palace are some curious pieces 
in fresco, well preserved from the time of old Rome, and 
dug up in Tivoli. They are seven or eight in number, 
most chiaro-oscuro, or painting of two colours. But there 
is one piece of a Venus and two Cupids incomparably 
fresh and beautiful. It hath some resemblance to the 
manner of Guido Reni. In this palace we saw a noted 
statue antique of a countryman asleep. Nothing can be 
more soft and natural. There is another of a slave eating 
the hand of a man, in which extreme hunger is expressed 
with great art. Upon the staircase there is the noblest 
antique lion in stone that I have anywhere seen. We 
ended the day with a walk in the gardens of Montalto. 

AT ROME 237 

They are very spacious, being said to contain three miles 
in circuit: cypress trees, espalier hedges, statues, and 
fountains make the ornaments of this place, which, like 
the gardens in Italy, is not kept with all that neatness 
that is observed in French and English gardens. 

Jan. 17. 

We went this morning with Mr. Hardy and Dr. Chenion 

to the piazza of S. Maria Maggiore, where we saw the 

ceremony performed of blessing the horses, mules, and 

asses. On this day every year people of all ranks send 

or bring their cattle of that kind to receive a blessing 

from the fathers of St. Anthony. We saw a great number 

of fellows, with their horses dressed out with ribbons, 

pressing forward to the blessing. This was distributed 

at an office in the comer of a street or turning by a father 

in his cap and surplice, who threw holy water on all that 

passed; at the same the owner of the horse gave him 

a testoon and a wax taper ; some country fellows who had 

not money paid the priest in fruits, corn, or the like. 

This solemnity lasts the whole day. From hence we went 

to Dioclesian*s baths. The eight entire pillars of granite, 

each one single stone, standing in that part of the thermae 

which is converted into the Carthusians* church, we found 

on measuring to be full fifteen foot round each of them, 

and proportionably high. The porphyry bason, which 

lies in the yard, is above six and forty foot round, of one 

piece. Not far from this church there stands another 

entire round building which was part of the thermae, and 

now makes a real church. Having spent some time in 

viewing the paintings here and in an adjacent church 

dedicated to St. Susanna, we took a walk in the Carthusian 

cloisters, which are very beautiful, having been designed 

by Michael Angelo. In the afternoon Mr. Ashe and I 

visited the Villa Medici, on the Monte Pintiano. The 

building is handsome, designed by Julio Romano, but 

at present stripped of its best furniture and neglected. 

We saw nevertheless some good statues. A small Venus, 

excellent ; a large Cupid, antique and good ; with several 

antique busts and statues, in the house. In the gardens 

we took particular notice of a lion done by Flaminius 


Vacca, of two vastly large granite vases, of a single piece 
each, and of a group of about sixteen figures, Niobe and 
her children, antique, well done, and dug up in the garden. 
From thence we went to the corso which was then kept on 
the piazza, and stood facing S. Maria Maggiore, on account 
of blessing the horses. 

Jan. 18. 

I saw the pope and cardinals at St. Peter*s. There was 
fine singing, much incensing, carrying about, dressing, 
and undressing of the pope. His holiness was carried in 
a chair with two screens or eventails of feathers, one on 
each side, protecting him from the air, though within the 
church. Cardinals officiated at the high altar. A great 
baldachino, forming a sort of tabernacle, was set up for 
his Holiness between the high altar and the upper end 
of the choir. This day was the feast of St. Peter's Chair. 
The guards of light horse and cuirassiers were drawn up 
in the piazza of St. Peter's, and there was a great number 
of cardinals and prelates with fine coaches and rich liveries. 
The cardinals had some three, some four or more coaches 
of their domestics. Cardinal Aquaviva's liveries were 
particularly splendid. They came out of church each 
under a canopy or umbrella to his coach. In the afternoon 
we saw the lesser palace of Farnese with Mr. Terwhit 
and Mr. Hardy. The gallery, whose ceiling is painted by 
Raphael, is very well worth seeing. It contains the Supper 
of the Gods at the marriage of Cupid and Psyche, and in 
another piece the admission of Psyche to immortality 
in a council of the gods. In the skirts of the platfond 
are painted other figures relating to the same design, 
particularly Venus begging Jove to make her daughter-in- 
law immortal, which is excellently well expressed. 

Jan. 19. 

This day we resolved to spend in viewing the antiquities 
upon the Mount Esquiline. What we first saw was the 
Church Delia Santa Croce in Gierusalemme. It was built 
by Constantine, and hath fine pillars of granite on either 
side the great aisle, thought to have been taken by him 

AT ROME 239 

out of the temple dedicated to Venus and Cupid hard by. 
We could not see the piece of the holy cross which is 
preserved in this church, it being shewn only at certain 
seasons, and then from an eminence or high pulpit ap- 
pointed for that purpose. From hence we went to see 
the ruins of the temple of Venus and Cupid. It stands in 
the vineyard of the Olivetans, but so defaced that one can 
make nothing of it. Not far from hence we saw the 
remains of the Amphitheatrum Castrense, and the conduits 
of the Aqua Claudia which brought the water from Frescati. 
We clambered up the ruin to look into the pipe, which 
is built of huge wrought stones. Upon the frieze over 
a gate in the aqueduct I could read Caisar Augustus Ger- 
manicus. The next ruin we saw was the Templum Minervae 
Medicae, as some will have it ; according to others it was 
a basilica. But the shape seems to refute the latter opinion. 
What remains is a decagonal building, with part of the 
vault standing, and large niches all round it. In the 
neighbouring church of St. Bibbiana we saw a fine statue 
of that saint by Bernini, also the column where she was 
whipped, and a vast urn of one piece of alabaster, wherein 
her body lies under the altar. We met with an instance 
of behaviour in this church not to be matched in Italy. 
A poor boy who gave some herbs that growing [in] the 
church are supposed to have a healing virtue from the saint, 
refused to take money from Mr. Hardy, who, having 
accepted his present, thought himself obliged to force it 
on him. The next antiquity we observed was the Castello 
deir Aqua Martia, in which we were told the trophies of 
Marius were hung up. It was of brick, a piece, with some- 
thing like a great niche in it, standing, but nothing that 
could give us an idea of the fabric when entire. From 
thence we passed through the arch of Gallienus; it 
was plain, without those bas-reliefs and ornaments which 
are commonly met with on the like arches. This was 
in our way to S. Maria Maggiore, near which we observed 
a prodigious marble pillar of great beauty, raised on a 
pedestal something like the Monument in London. This 
pillar was found among the ruins of the Temple of Peace 
in the Via Sacra. We passed through the church, which 
is one of the four Basiliche, the other three being St. 
Peter*s, St. John Lateran, and St. Paul's. We stopped to 


survey the chapel of Paul the Fifth, which is most richly 
adorned with marble incrustations, fine architecture, and 
statues. I must not forget that as we were going to our 
antiquities this morning, I observed by the way a church 
with an inscription signifying that it was dedicated to the 
Holy Trinity and to St Charles the cardinal-archbishop 
of Milan. In the afternoon we intended to visit what 
remained on the Mons Esquilinus, but in the way saw the 
remains of the basilica of Nerva. The wall is noble, of 
rustic work, like the palaces in Florence, vast stones 
heaped one upon the other, with an irregular jutting out 
here and there. It now makes part of a nunnery. The 
pillars that remain are of white marble fluted, very large. 
The next curiosity we saw was an ancient temple of 
Minerva: some pillars and entablatures are remaining, 
with relievos, and a statue of Minerva in the wall. These 
near the Columna Trajana, in our way to the Esquiline, 
where the first thing we saw was the church of S. Pietro 
in Vincoli. We took but a transient view of a famous 
tomb here, resolving to come another time. Hence we 
went to the Therme di Tito. The ruins above ground 
are pretty unintelligible. They are of brick, as the other 
thermae, but [from] the stucco, &c. one may see they were 
encrusted anciently with marble, as the other baths do 
likewise appear to have been. At some distance under 
ground we saw eight large galleries or halls, that were 
anciently reservoirs of water for the baths of Titus. The 
walls are covered with plaster as hard as stone, and in 
many places encrusted with a sort of tartar from the water. 
In our return we saw a piece of antiquity which they will 
have to be a remnant of the temple of Priapus : it is a 
small rotunda, with light only through the dome ; in the 
wall withinside there is a large conical stone, of which they 
can give no account. Hard by we saw the remains of the 
circus of Sallustius, with the situation of his gardens and 

Jan. 20. 

This forenoon we saw the Mausoleum of Augustus. 
What now remains is a round wall, and some vaults which 
are supposed to have been burying-places for his liberti. 

AT ROME 241 

We saw some scattered vases, statues, and bas-reliefs. 
This monument stands in the north-west part of the town, 
between the Corso and the Strada di Ripetta. After this 
we visited the castle of St. Angelo. Having passed the 
guards and the outward lodge, we entered certain passages 
and staircases hollowed out of the Moles Adriani, which 
was a solid building, the lower part whereof still remains 
and makes part of the castle. It is of a round figure, 
seeming of no great strength, hath in it more room than 
one would imagine from its outward appearance. We saw 
amongst other things a salon painted by Perin del Vaga. 
His design is very graceful, and like his master Raphael. 
We saw another large and fair salon, painted by Perin 
and Julio Romano, with a good deal of chiaro-oscuro by 
Polidore Caravagio. At the upper end of this hall was 
painted the Angel, and opposite to him at the other end the 
Emperor Adrian. We saw the entrances of the two places, 
one where the archives, and particularly the Donation of 
Constantine, is kept, the other where the five millions of 
Sixtus Quintus are preserved. Both these are shut up with 
iron doors. They shewed us two rooms handsomely fur- 
nished, which they said was to be the pope's apartment in 
case of necessity. In a like apartment, underneath, Clement 
the Seventh was lodged when prisoner of Charles the Fifth. 
When we saw the castle, that same apartment, we were 
told, lodged a Spanish bishop who had been there about 
six months by order of the Inquisition. He was the same 
I formerly mistook to have been lodged in the prisons 
of the Inquisition. Our guide told us he was never 
visited by any but the inquisitors, nor allowed to go out 
of his apartment. He said he had often seen him, that 
he is esteemed a man of great understanding, has a 
bishopric of twelve or fourteen thousand crowns a year, 
^d is about fifty years of age. We saw an armoury 
which seemed no great matter, the armour was divided 
and hung up by pieces that looked rusty enough. The 
person who keeps it shewed us a collection of arms which 
^longed to criminals executed for murder or carrying 
concealed weapons. Amongst the rest the pistol that 
dropped in St. Peter's or in the pope's chapel from the 
Prince of Parma, for which he was condemned to be 
i^headed by Sixtus Quintus. Below in the court of the 



castle we saw a Greek archbishop who had been fourteen 
years prisoner of the Inquisition in this castle, and was 
lately acquitted. I must not forget the statue of the angel 
with a sword in his hand on the top of the castle, in the 
very spot where he appeared, as they say, to all the people 
in the time of the plague in the reign of Gregory the Great. 
From which event the castle takes its name. The bridge 
of St. Angelo, which leads over the Tiber towards the 
castle, deserves notice, being nobly adorned on each side 
with statues, ancient and modern. From hence we went 
to see the remains of the Theatre of Marcellus. The Doric 
and Ionic orders in two ranges are still to be seen ; the 
Corinthian, and perhaps the Composite, being destroyed. 
Hard by we saw the ruins of the Portico of Octavia, as we 
were told, though in the inscription we could see mention 
of Pertinax, but not any of her. As we returned home by 
the Pillar of Antoninus we had the curiosity to enter into it, 
and go part of the way up stairs. The staircase is hollowed 
in the solid stones that, being of vast bigness, compose 
the column. The reliefs with which the outside of the 
Pillar is covered from top to bottom are not reckoned 
altogether so delicate as those on Trajan's Pillar. In the 
afternoon we saw the remains of the Thermae Constantini, 
being only an old wall in the gardens of the palace of 
Colonna. Not far from hence we saw an ancient brick 
tower called Torre di Militia : it hath stood since the time 
of Trajan, and at a distance seems very entire. We could 
not come at it because it is hemmed up in a convent of 
nuns. It is a pity so considerable a remain of antiquity 
should be rendered inaccessible by that circumstance. It 
is not very unlike a steeple, being of a square figure in the 
lower part ; and the upper, which is a tower distinct from 
and lesser than the under, out of which it proceeds, is 
a square with the angles rounded. From hence we visited 
the Giardini d'Aldobrandino (though now possessed by 
Prince Pamphilio): in them we saw a vast number of 
ancient statues, the greatest part of which had nothing 
extraordinary, many of them but indifferent ; some relievos 
on the outside of the house are excellent. I remarked 
one which I cannot but think represents the combat 
between Dares and Entellus mentioned in Virgil. An old 
and a young man are fighting with such things as the poet 

AT ROME 243 

describes the cestus's to be. But the greatest curiosity 
in this house is the ancient picture in fresco dug up in the 
Thermae of Titus. It contains ten figures, representing 
the bride and bridegroom on the marriage night, with 
maid-servants who seem to burn incense or to be employed 
in preparing a bath. The bridegroom sits on a very low 
sort of seat not unlike an oriental sofa. The bride sits, 
with a modest downcast look, on the other side the bed, 
in conference with another woman. The bed is without 
curtains, and like enough to the modern beds one meets 
with now in Italy. There are three stands, one of which 
hath a wide vessel in it, in the chamber about which the 
women seem to be employed. The attitudes are very 
well, the colouring seems never to have been good, and 
the drapery but of an indifferent gout. I took the more 
notice of this piece because it is almost the only one extant 
of antiquity, at least the most entire, the rest being but 
fragments much defaced ; those shewn for ancient paint- 
ings in the palace Barberini being, as I am since informed, 
done by Polidore Caravagio. This old piece was found 
in the baths of Titus, where likewise were found the Apollo 
and the Laocoon in the Vatican : as was the Farnesian 
Hercules, and the group of the Bull and Zethus and 
Amphion, &c. in the baths of Caracalla. We ended the 
day with music at St. Agnes in the Piazza Navona. 

Jan. 21. 

This morning we went about two miles out of town 
towards the north-east to see the church of St. Agnes 
without the City. It being the day of St. Agnes's feast, 
we could not exactly see the pillars or inside, they being 
hung with damask. Here we saw some very bad reliefs 
representing our Saviour on the ass, &c., four columns of 
porphyry at the great altar, on which stood an agate 
statue of the saint, and in the convent an excellent bust 
of our Blessed Saviour by Michael Angelo : it is incom- 
parably fine. Hard by we saw the remains of the Hippo- 
dromus of Constantine, and the Mausoleum, as some will 
have it, of Constantia, as others, the Temple of Bacchus. 
It is round and entire. A circular row of double figures 
surround the altar, which stands in the middle of the 

R 2 


building. Under it lies the body of Constantia, which 
was taken out of a vast urn of porphyry very entire, now 
standing in the church. It hath no inscription, and is 
on all sides adorned with indifferent relievo representing 
winged boys squeezing grapes, which ^ves some colour 
to the opinion of those vmo will have this building to have 
been the Temple of Bacchus. In our return we observed, 
what we had often seen before, the noble Fountain of 
Aqua Felice, built and adorned with fine statues and 
relievo by Sixtus Quintus. It hath three great openings, 
whence the water gusheth forth abundantly. It stands 
next the Thermae Dioclesianae, just by the church of the 
Madonna di Victoria, which we entered, and spent some 
time in surveying the statues and pictures of that beautiful 
little church, particularly the statue of the angel aiming 
a dart at the heart of St. Teresa, wonderfully well done 
by Bernini, and the Madonna col Bambino and other 
figures, an excellent picture of Dominiquin's. In the 
afternoon we went to see the remains of antiquity on the 
Mons Celius. It lies on the south-east, between the Aven- 
tine and the Esquiline. As we passed by the Coliseum 
we observed some ruins, said to be the remains of the 
Domus Aurea Neronis, which being of vast extent, reached 
to the Esquiline, and stood in great part [on] Monte Celio 
as well as in the plain. We saw likewise in several places 
the remains of a prodigious aqueduct, and a wall with 
several arches consisting of vast stones, said to be the 
remains of the Curia Hostilia. But the chief curiosity on 
Monte Celio is the Temple of Faunus. It is an entire 
building, of great antiquity, round, having two circular 
rows oi Ionic pillars, with a good space between them : 
the interstices between the outer pillars are made up, 
which anciently, without doubt, lay open, which makes it 
probable there was some external wall that comprehended 
both rows of pillars. These pillars are of an unequal 
thickness, and the chapiters but ill wrought, though all 
the shafts of single pieces of granite, which shews the 
building to have been very ancient, before the flourishing 
of arts in Rome. The walls on the inside are painted 
with martyrdoms, particularly with that of St. Denys, who 
is represented, according to the legend, with his head in 
his hands after it was cut off. St John Lateran being 

AT ROME 245 

on this mount, we made a second visit to that church, 
which I take to be the noblest in Rome next to St. [Peter's] 
for the inside, as S. Maria Maggiore is for the outside. 
What I had not observed before were four noble fluted 
pillars of bronze gilt in an altar of the church in one end 
of the same, which was built by Constantine : there is 
a much mosaic and gilding on the roof, very ancient, 
probably from Constantine's time. The cloisters of this 
church are of that emperor's building, and well worth 
seeing. One may see a great tendency in that age to the 
Gothic, the pillars being small, and many of them wreathed 
oddly, and adorned with inlaid stones in a very mean 
manner. But the most valuable things are the sacred 
antiquities brought from Jerusalem : as the column — this, 
I think, was of porphyry — on which the cock stood when 
he crowed and Peter denied Christ; another pillar of 
white marble, that was rent in two on the suffering of our 
Blessed Saviour. Here is likewise a flat porphyry stone 
set in the wall, on which, they tell you, the soldiers threw 
lots for our Saviour's garment. I must not forget the 
famous porphyry chair, which some will have to have been 
introduced upon the discovery of Pope Joan, and from 
that time used at the coronation. This notion, I must 
own, seems fabulous to me, to wave other reasons obvious 
enough. There is another chair of white marble made in 
the same shape, and another of porphyry, broken, now 
to be seen in the same cloister. It is more probably con- 
jectured that they were used in baths for the conveniency 
of cleaning every part with more ease. This night we 
were heartily tired at an Italian tragedy of Caligula, where, 
amongst other decorums. Harlequin (the chief actor) was 
very familiar with the Emperor himself. 

Jan. 22. 

This day Mr. Ashe and I went about five miles out of 
town, through the Porta Capena. The first antiquity we 
observed on the road was the ruins of the Temple of Mars. 
Here we saw the remains of a great quadrangular portico 
that goes round the temple, whereof the substructions only 
now remain. A little beyond this we saw the Sepulchre 
of Metella. It is a round tower, 282 foot in circumference : 


the wall 35 foot thick, within brick, without and in the 
middle stone: the outside is covered with vast hewn 
pieces of the Petra Tiburtina, which remains extremely 
fresh and entire, being in appearance as hard and lasting 
as marf)le. This monument, in the civil wars of Italy, was 
used as a fortress, and hath some addition of a different 
work on the top ; adjacent are the remains of old fortresses 
since the civil wars of some centuries ago. On the outside 
towards the road we read this inscription : CiEciLiiE q. 
CRETici F. METELL-ff: CRASsi. It Stands (as many of the 
ancient sepulchres did) on the Appian Way, whereof we 
saw the remains in several places. On the wayside we 
saw several decayed ruins of ancient sepulchres, but which 
was Scipio Africanus's or which was Duillius's, &c., we 
could not discover. We returned another way to Rome, 
and saw the Circus of Caracalla, which is a noble remain 
of antiquity. You see a good part of the wall and the 
metae still standing. The wall plainly shews you the figure 
of the circus. It seems to be near half a mile in length. 
At one end we saw the remains of two towers where the 
racers used to prepare themselves, and in the side the 
remains of a building higher than the wall, where it is 
thought the Emperor and his Court viewed the sports. 
After this we visited the grotto of the nymph Egeria, which 
stands pretty entire from the time of Numa Pompilius. 
It is of stone, and the vault remaining. In it we saw three 
fountains, and an ancient statue of a woman lying, the 
head wanting, and maimed in other parts. We saw like- 
wise in this grotto some vastly large stones — larger than 
tomb stones, and several ancient chapiters of pillars, that 
seemed by their little delicacy to shew themselves of the 
age of Numa. The next thing we saw in our return home 
was the church of Quo vadis Domine? It is built, they 
tell you, on the very place where St. Peter met our 
Saviour as he was flying from Rome to avoid the persecu- 
tion. He asked our Saviour, 'Quo vadis Domine?' To 
which He answered, ' Eo Romam iterum crucifigi.' Upon 
that St. Peter returned to Rome and suffered martyrdom. 
In the church we were presented with prints of this 
history : in which it is remarkable that St. Peter's church 
in his lifetime is supposed to have made the left part of the 
view of Rome. There is an old pavement runs through 

AT ROME 247 

this church, which they will have to be that part of the 
road on which St. Peter met our Saviour. An inscription 
on the wall tells you that the very stone on which our 
Lord stood, with the marks of His feet, is now preserved 
at St. Sebastian's. I saw that at St. Sebastian's, and am 
surprised at the stupidity of the forgery, that stone being 
of white marble and the pavement in the church of 
common blue stone. 

Jan. 23. 

We spent all this day in our lodging. 

Jan. 24. 

Having turned off our coach, in which we could not so 
conveniently observe the streets and palaces, we took after 
dinner a walk to S. Pietro di Montorio : by the way we 
observed the fa9ades of many noble buildings, particularly 
that of Monte Citorio, where the courts of justice are 
kept — it is a most magnificent fabric ; and that of the 
Famesian palace, in which I remarked that the Ionic 
pillars are placed above the Corinthian, though it was 
built by M. Angelo. We looked into the church of 
S. Carlo di Catenari. It hath a gilt cupola and some 
fine pictures. We saw likewise the Mons Pietatis, where 
the charitable bank for pawns is kept. The chapel belong- 
ing to this building is small but very beautiful, of a round 
figure, lined with fine marble, and adorned with excellent 
sculpture, particularly the statue of the Madonna and a 
Dead Christ by Domenico Guidi, an admirable piece. In 
the church of S. Pietro Montorio we took particular notice 
of the famous Transfiguration, the last piece designed by 
Raphael. Just by the church we saw a small round chapel 
of the Doric order, built on the spot where St. Peter was 
beheaded, with an inscription importing that it is declared 
by Paul the Third that as often as any priest shall celebrate 
mass in that chapel he shall set free one soul from 
purgatory. Having delighted ourselves with the glorious 
prospect of Rome, which appears nowhere to such advan- 
tage as on this hill, we returned, and in our way found 
a Jesuit preaching in the open air in the Piazza Navona. 
We listened awhile to him. He was a young man of brisk 
genius, his motions lively, and his discourse rhetorical. 


The Jesuits send their novices to learn to preach in the 
public places and corners, of the streets. We took the 
Dogana or Custom-house in our way home. It was 
anciently the Curia Antonina. A range of Corinthian 
pillars with the entablature is now standing in the wall of 
this building. These pillars are placed nearer one another 
than I have observed any other antiques to be. In the 
palace of Verospi we saw some antique statues. I had 
almost forgot the Roman College. It is a vast and noble 
building, governed by the Jesuits. In the court of it we 
saw a list of the books read and explained in the several 
schools. I observed the only Greek books they read were 
Homer's Batrac[h]omyomachia and Esop's Fables. 

Jan. 25. 

This morning we spent at home. In the afternoon we 
walked through the city as far as the Ripa Grande. The 
most remarkablepiece of antiquity that we had not observed 
before was the Ponte Senatorio, of which a good part is 
still remaining. We visited several churches. That of 
the Madonna di Loretto : it is a neat small round church, 
handsomely adorned. Over the great altar we saw a 
picture of the Casa Santa carried by angels, and the 
Madonna and Bambino sitting on the top of it. The 
church of St. Caecilia, which was first built Anno Domini 
232. We saw several fine paintings in it, particularly a fine 
Madonna col Bambino by Guido Reni. Here is likewise 
a very rich altar, adorned with lapis lazuli, agate, &c., and 
a prodigious number of silver lamps burning night and 
day. S. Maria delli Orti, a very beautiful church, richly 
encrusted with marble of different kinds, and embellished 
with painting and gilding. There is particularly a fine 
Madonna by Taddeo Zuccre [Zuccaro]. In the church of 
S. Francisco de la Ripa we saw, amongst other consider- 
able paintings, a fine Dead Christ, &c. by Annibal Carache, 
and a beautiful statue of the Cavaliere Bernini's representing 
a noble Roman lady beatified. In the Palazzo Matthei 
we saw several statues and some very fine bas-reliefs. 
This night we went to see a play, with interludes of music. 
The play broke off in the beginning upon the principal 
actor's being run through the leg on the stage by accident. 


Die 5*0 Maii, A.D. 171 7, iter auspicati sumus\ 

Per 3 hor. et ^ utrinque laetissimus ager, vites ulmis 
frequentissimis implicatae, interstitia frumento &c., repleta. 
Sylva seu potius hortus videbatur perpetuus. Via cumu- 
lata pulverea ex utrovis latere fossae, sepes rariores agro 
plerumque patente, in hoc tractu vici 2 vel 3 dein Ardessa 
urbs, deinde vicus. 
Per i hor. prata et seges aperta. 

Per I hor. campi latiores neque adeo arboribus impediti ; 
frumentum &c. ; ulmi insuper et vites, sed rariores ; in hoc 
tractu vicus insigni domo conspicuus. 

Per J hor. prata et linum a sinistris ; frumentum et fabee 
&c. a dextris; campus ad laevam apertissimus, a dextris 
nonnihil arboribus consitus; per totum iter montes a 
dextris sed remotiores. 

Capua, animae 7000; seminarium sub patrocinio Car- 
dinahs Caraccioli ; studentes 80 ; ex iis alumni 30 ; xysti 
ubi scholares, lecti &c., praeses Collegii Urbanus. Vinum 
bonum; bibliotheca ^ ad minimum librorum ad kgem 

Ecclesia Cathedralis in qua picturae mosaicae et 24 
columnae ex marmore granito. Urbs ista foris quam intus 
pulchrius exhibet spectaculum. 

A Capua nova ad antiquam iter continuatum est per J 
hor. in planitie ex utravis parte frumentum, cannabe, ulmi 
et vites, sed rariores, tuguria seu domus rarae. 

Porta Capuae veteris Amphitheatri reliquiae, in iis arcus 
foveis et ingressui inservientes ; saxa marmorea ingentis 
molis et lateres adhuc quasi recentes, pars exigua muri 
extimi in qua visuntur semi-columnae ordinis Dorici sine 
fregio ; ulnae (3 pedes) 600 circa orbem exteriorem. 

i milliaris abhinc visitur specus lateritius fenestris per- 
foratis superne tecto cylindrico, constat xystis tribus in 
hanc formam 11: duo longiores pass. 135, brevior 117, 
jumenta 439 ibi stabulari possunt, nimirum dum copiis 
inservit Romanis. 

* The travellers had moved from on their tour in Calabria, recorded 

Rome to Naples in the interval in what follows. He writes from 

between Jan. 25 and May 5, on Naples to Lord Percival on April 

which last day they set forth 5, enthusiastic on Naples. 


S. Maria di Capua a Capua vetere ad Casertam iter 
patuit unius horae. Campi utrinque largiores frumento et 
cannabe consiti, ulmis et vitibus cincti juxta viam sepul- 
chrum baud procul a specu, passus 82 in circuitu, cavitates 
statuis recipiendis idoneae 14 ab extra, murus duplex et 
inter muros ascensus, muri ex lapidibus exiguis reticulatis 
sive ad normam adamantis sectis cum nervis insuper 
lateritiis. Columnae in muro exteriore simplicissimae. 
Aliae nonnullae reliquiae. Vici 2 vel 3 inter Capuam et 

Caserta, a small city consisting of little more than one 
large square ; palace of the prince out of repair ; villa 
about I a mile from town, house therein much decayed ; 
painted pavilions, marble porticos, &c., shew it to have 
been fine; gardens large, out of order; walks through 
a large grove, fountains, grottos, statues, one good one of 
a shepherd playing on a pipe. These made 150 years 
agone, now in ruins, though the prince spends part of his 
time here \ 

[Caserta] May 16. 

Monastery of S. Maria del Angelo, pleasantly situate on 
the side of a mountain, with a cypress grove behind it, 
J of a mile from Caserta. This mountain anciently 
Tifata : place famous for Hannibal's camp which was 
pitched there. 

i more St. Gracel, small village; little house on the 
point of a lower mountain. Matalona'^, open pleasant 
town, well built, clean, an hour from Caserta. 

i more through an alley set with trees to the Duke's 
villa ; the house Gothic but neat ; grottos, waterworks, 
statues, beans, peas, kitchen-stuff, tall trees, laurel hedges, 
but not so trim as ours, the whole in a natural noble taste 
beyond the French ; a stream, from the villa to the inn an 

Corn-fields surrounded with elms and vines, hemp, 
Indian corn, lupins. From the villa onwards groves of 
apricots, some cherries also and walnuts ; giuppi support- 

* Caserta, six miles from Capua, of Naples, 
is about seventeen miles north-east ^ Maddaloni in OrgiaszVs map. 


ing vines ; apricots, 2 sometimes, 3 frequently, make 33 
ounces. Here we dined. 

From the inn, plain between mountains, the plain fruit- 
ful, thick set with vines and fruit-trees ; after ^ hour deep 
road, suffering nothing to be seen ; J hour and the former 
scene recovered ; mountains on the right well covered 
with trees to the top, and two or three houses ; mountains 
on the left fruitful only at bottom ; hedge runs along the 
road ; deep or hollow road. 

Arpae, a small town with old walls and towers, taken 
by some for Furcae Caudinae. Asps ; roads paved with 
gravel, f hor., fields open, corn and odd trees with vines, 
row of asps of great length ; pleasant village on the side 
of a mount on the left. A small close grew (of asps 
I think). 

35' pass through Monte Sarki, pleasant town towards 
the bottom of a conical rock, on the point of which a castle ; 
dance with music of pipe and tambour, f hor. more 
mountains on left expire ; . trees thick, open country, 
wood on our right, vale amidst rising hills ; well ; some 
coarse ground ; trees few, and few of them with grapes ; 
rivulet through the bottom of the glade ; whitish stony 
soil ; low vale on the right, rising ground on left ; 2 or 3 
bridges over the rivulet ; shining flies ; moonlight ; bridge 
over a small river ; Beneventum 10 at night. Principato < 
Ulteriore overo provincia Hirpina con qualche parte di 
Sanniti e Campani. 13 cities, bishoprics, except Bene- 
ventum and Conza, both archbishoprics ; good wines ; 
nuts and chesnuts ; many fishing waters ; woods full of 
game ; cold and healthy. 

[Beneventum] May 17. 

Beneventum' situate on a rising ground, often suffers 
by earthquakes ; particularly in 1688, when the greatest part 
was destroyed, i. e. two-thirds. Since which several pa;laces 
were beautifully rebuilt. The country round it hill and 
dale, various, open ; inhabitants esteemed 10,000 ; 12 
sbirri and 12 soldiers of the Pope's in garrison. Arch- 
bishop, Cardinal Ursini, his library chiefly law and 
scholastic divinity; character good, the miracle of his 

' Beneventum is 32 miles north-east of Naples. 


being saved in an earthquake by the intercession of St. 
Philippo Neri painted in his chapel. Handsome place, 
hall hung with arms of archbishops ; souls in his diocese 
91,985, secular clergy 1405. The statue of the Bubalus, 
that of the lion, ugly, on a pillar near the castle; the 
Porta Aurea, with the respective inscriptions ; divers 
statues and pieces of statues of lions, these probably the 
arms of Beneventum. Streets paved with marble, many 
fragments of antiquity in the walls of houses, friezes, 
architraves, &c. broken. Amphitheatre, the ruins of it 
consisting of prodigious stones and brickwork, like those 
of Rome and Capua, though not near so much remaining. 
Cathedral clean and in good repair; granite pillars ten, built 
supposedly on the foundation of an old temple, several 
fragments of the like pillars lying in the streets ; thfs city 
refuge for banditti, ill-looking folks; landlord murdered 
(I think) 7. Some ruins of temples at some distance in 
the environs of the town. Papal territory 2 miles one 
side, 3 on the other ; city poor and mean. Beneventum 
came into the hands of the Pope in the eleventh century. 
Said to have been built by Diomedes, king of iEtolia. 

Set out from Beneventum at 5 hours English in the 
evening. Gentle hills and vales, pleasant, various, fruitful, 
like England ; vines round poles on left ; corn, pasture 
. for oxen, a few. 5 h. + 40 m., olives on the right, open 
roads. 6 h., asps with vines round them on right. 6 h. + 
8 m., hedge-rows, wild roses in the hedges, fruitful hills 
all the way in view on our right. Few oxen, 2 or 3 sheep, 
fern and bushes, lakes and pleasant hedges ; several beauti- 
ful hedges with red, yellow, and blue flowers, the deep red 
flower remarkably beautiful and predominant ; trees with 
vines. Terra Nuova, a pleasant village on the hills on 
right ; vineyards left, corn right ; few sheep, asses, and 
oxen. 7 h. + 10 m., palace of the Marchese Santo Georgio ; 
trees and vines thick right and left. Monte Fusco and 
Monte Mileto, pleasant towns on points of hills on right ; 
trees, vines, and corn right and left ; open roads, trees and 
vines thick, delicious scene as various and better planted 
than round Beneventum. 7 h. + J, painted meadows ; 2 
towns on the sides of hills on our right ; vineyards left, 
com right ; lupins ; delightful opening of great extent ; 
shrubs ; open region continued, like Ireland ; river 


Calore ; stony road along the side of it ; bridge, on the 

other side of which, at a small distance, a single house seen. 


[Ponte Calore] May 18. 

Set out at five in the morning from Ponte Calore ; 
country open, wavy, various, less fruitful than the day 
before, but thinly inhabited; procession out of a small 
town (I think La Grotta), to implore rain ; 2 confraterni- 
ties, crosses, standards, girls crowned with leaves some, 
and some with thorns, all barefoot but the priests and 

Short chasm. 

Shrubs on right, pasture left; vines round reeds on 
the sides of the hills in our first ascent to the city. 
Grottos in the side of the rock inhabited, several one 
above another. Ariano, poor city on a hill. The environs 
hilly ; bare open ground ; alphabet over the bishop's gate ; 
Spina Santa carried in procession, crosses on men's 
shoulders, men and women after the clergy of all orders. 
Bread good, water bad, which probably made some think 
it the Equus Tuticus of Horace, which opinion confuted 
by Cluverius, or rather the town ' quod versu dicere non 
est,' for it is not doubted to be the Equus Tuticus built 
by Diomedes, Having dined and walked round the town, 
set out from Ariano at 3 h. + J : vines, opening scene, and 
grove on right, some corn, some pasture, indifferent soil 
and a few sheep ; hills all round and those naked ; a great 
hollow glade on the left, another on the right. A wide 
plain before like a theatre, and a semicircle of hills facing 
us. This plain mostly pasture, two flocks of black sheep 
on it, no trees ; bridge over a small stream ; valley after 
the plain ; bridge over the fontane ; all mountains, Savigni 
right, Grieci left. 5 h. + 53 m., shrubs right and left, wood 
on the hills ; stony road ; pleasant vale, oaks, &c. ; laat 
esculeta ; long stony road through a forest ; fountain seem- 
ing ancient with wall of great stones. Still forest ; moon- 
light ; lightnings without thunder ; 10 a clock arrive at 
a large waste inn (i.e. little inhabited for the size, having 
[been] the country palace of some nobleman), called Ponte 


[Ponte Bovino] May 19. 

Set out at six; bridge over Cervaro, bridge without 
water, as two or three yesterday; hills. Troja, a city on 
left on a rising ground ; coarse ground, wood. 6h. +5om., 
large plain ; black sandy soil between naked hills ; corn, 
a little shrub, much the greater part poor pasture. loj, 
Ardona *, anciently Ardonea, now only an inn. At 2| set 
out from Ardona; the same vast plain, parched, poor, 
hardly any corn or houses to be seen; mountains at 
a great distance, sometimes on right, sometimes on left, 
sometimes on both ; a tree here and there, a wood, some 
groves at a distance on left; granary of the Jesuits; 30 
carts ; corn throughout Apulia burnt up this year. 5 h., 
the sea appears on left. 6 h. + J, we come to La Cerignola, 
a village well enough built ; in it 4 convents and the palace 
of a prince ; passed the Aufidus at 9+ J over an old bridge ; 
came to Canusium, now Canosa, at 10 + J. [N.B. On 
passing the Aufidus the ground grew unequal. After 
much wandering in the dark, and clambering in our 
chaises over stones out of the way, we arrived at 

[Canosa] May 20. 

In Canusium old bad statue, castle ; poor town on a low 
hill ; land round it looked poor, great part plain, the rest 
gentle risings ; no trees ; monument of Boemund very 
magnificent for that age, being the Greek architecture 
of the Secolo basso. Catacombs, therein niches, in some 
whereof six or seven hollows like troughs for dead bodies, 
all out of soft rock ; grottos, old temple with four porches, 
afterwards had been turned to a church ; Roman ruins 
mistaken for those of a monastery, huge brick walls and 
fragments of pillars shew antiquity ; old gate, brick, with 
the arch entire ; ruins full of odd insects, lizards, serpents, 
tarantulas, scorpions, &c., the earth full of holes for them ; 
some old pieces of wall, but nothing entire seen at a dis- 
tance. N.B. At Canosa I saw the fellow reading a book 
that he knew not one word of, out of devotion. From 

' Ordona, Org, 


Canusium to Cannae, about six miles by the side of the 
Aufidus ; this a river that would be thought small in 
England, with deep banks. Cannae, its few ruins on a small 
hill, being fragments of white marble pillars, bits of walls, 
wrought stones, &c., nothing great. Field of battle must 
have been the plain between Cannae and Canosa, on the 
bank of the Aufidus ; on the other side the plain a gentle 
rising ground ; land between Cannae and Barletta planted 
with corn on the side next the sea : the Spur of Italy 
in view ^ 

Barletta, in a plain by the sea-side ; bishoprick ; inhabit- 
ants last year 11,500 (so the Prior of the Theatines assured 
us) ; wide, fair, well-built streets, all hewn stone, diamond- 
cut, rustic ; cathedral poor ; Colossus, in bronze, in the 
principal street of the town, of Heraclius. In the Jesuits' 
church this epitaph : ' Hectoris a Marra fratris memoriae 
ffiternitati amori marmor «s aurum Antonius a Marra 
posuit.' 2 convents, 5 nunneries, Theatines 8, Jesuits 10. 
Antonius a Marra's altar in the Jesuits' cost 18,000 ducats, 
besides other benefactions given and expected ; ' he the 
only benefactor. Theatines' poor library ; their Prior, or 
properly their Padre Vicario's cabinet of pasteboard fruit 
shewed by him as a great curiosity ; the Piemontese father 
who talk[edj of play and the court with gusto, &c. N.B. At 
Barietta the inn was only for mules or horses ; we 
found nevertheless a camera locanda in a private house, 
with good beds, &c., but we bought our own provisions. 

N.B. The P. Vicario tells us of the tarantula, he cured 
several with the tongue of the serpente impetrito found in 
Malta, and steeped in wine and drunk after the ninth 
or last dance, there being 3 dances a day for three days ; 
on the death of the tarantula the malady ceases ; it is com- 
jnunicated by eating fruit bit by a tarantula. He thinks 
It not a fiction, having cured among others a Capucin, 
whom he could not think would feign for the sake of 
dancing. The patients affiect different coloured hangings. 
Thus far the father. N.B. The peasant at Canosa told 
^s his way of catching the tarantula, which takes the end 
of a straw wet with spittle and thrust into the hole in 

^ Barletta is distant about eight Cannae, on a rocky island in the 
from the battle- field of Adriatic. 


his mouth on the man's whistling, and suffers himself 
to be drawn out. One peasant at Canosa was afraid of 
them, while his companion laughed and said he had .taken 
them without harm in his hands. 

[Barletta] May 21. 

Left Barletta at 6 in the morning, along the sea-side ; 
corn, a few vineyards, and enclosures on each side the 
road, some stony and open, uncultivated, after that open 
with low shrubs. 7^, enclosures, corn, vines, figs on nght 
and left. N.B. Square low towers begun to be observed 
this morning at certain distances along the coast, being 
spy-towers against the Turks. 7.38', close by the sea 
on left ; vines, figs, and other fruit-trees all the way to 
Trani ; strike off from the sea a little in the road to Trani, 
just before we enter the city. This city, as Barletta, paved 
and built almost entirely of white marble ; noble cathedral, 
Gothic, of white marble, in the nave two double rows of 
columns made out of the fragments of old pillars, granite, 
&c. ; pieces of pillars lying in the streets ; port stopped 
or choked ; piracies of the Turks make it unsafe travelling 
by night ; inhabitants 7,000 ; convents 5 or 6 ; archbishop ; 
poor library of the left convent, viz. the Dominicans ; 
a thousand crowns per annum make the revenue of that 
convent ; 6, 8, or 10 go to a convent in these towns. 
N.B. The muscatell of Trani excellent. [N.B. Ports of 
Trani and Brindisi choaked by the Spaniards to suppress 
commerce. M.] 

From Trani in something above an hour we reached 
Biseglia; road lay through vines, pomegranates, olives, 
figs, almonds, &c., and enclosures, part hedge, part loose 
stone walls. Biseglia is a city on the coast, beautiful, 
well-built ; the lower part white marble, of the town, walls, 
and houses, the rest hewn stone ; without the town-wall 
a fosse. N.B. Walls likewise and bastions round the two 
last towns, but nothing of considerable strength observed 
by us. Biseglia, as divers other cities in Apulia, suffered 
much in an earthquake 15 years before, of which several 
signs remaining in palaces repaired, cracks in the walls, 
&c» Handsome palaces of the Durazzi, Flori, and other 


nobles ; the taste noble and unaffected, were it not for the 

diamond cut in some fafades ; 1500 families, or as others 

reckon 8 or 9,000 souls ; commerce of this and the two 

foregoing towns, corn, oil, almonds, &c. ; small, insecure, 

pitiful port for Tartans, boats, &c.; convents 5, nunneries 2; 

a bishopric. The environs full of villas and charming 

gardens ; no inn in this town, an auberge for horses only 

without the walls. From Biseglia to Molfetta 5 miles, 

the road very stony, loose stone walls on both sides ; the 

same fruits and corn, but olives in greatest quantity; 

the square towers still along the coast, the sea a field's 

breadth distant on the left ; the last mile we coasted close ; 

little or no strand ; no mountains all this day in sight. 

Molfetta, a small walled city, walls, towers, buildings of 

white marble ; noble convent of Dominicans, with a church 

of very handsome architecture, and another with a beautiful 

fafade adorned with statues ^ From Molfetta to Giovanasso 

3 miles by the sea-side, close ; the country on the right well 

planted with fruit-trees and corn as before ; the road very 

^^ggcd with stones, no hedges in view, but maceriae or 

3tone walls ; within half a mile of Giovanasso a quarry 

of white marble, the shore all the way rugged with rocks of 

Avhite marble ; sea rough. Giovanasso walled with towers, 

&c., all squared stones of a yellowish rather than of white 

marble ; town but mean within, streets narrow, poor look, 

said to contain about 4,000 souls. They seem to exceed in 

the numbers of this town and Biseglia. From Giovanasso 

3 miles by the sea, road exceeding rough, country as 

before. Then we struck off from the sea a little through 

a plain, partly corn, partly shrub, green and various, the 

land on the right continuing as before ; little white square 

houses in the vineyards all along this day's journey, since 

we left Trani. Turks taking off whole families together. 

Round and pyramidal heaps of stones in the fields, vines 

and com on right and left, fruit-trees at some distance on 

right; deep sand and bad road before we entered Bari. 

Delicious vineyards, gardens, &c., powdered with little 

white houses about Bari. 

* Now a considerable town, population nearly 30,000, 16 miles S.W. 
of Bari. 



[Bari] May 22. 

Castle of Bari. Ban hath inhabitants 18,000 ; moles old 
and new, port shallow, not admitting ships of any burden ; 
square towers at every half-mile, the watchmen advertise 
each other by smoke from them, this round the coasts of 
the kingdom. Convents of Franciscans and Augustines \ 
In the former a father played on the organ, which he said 
was the curiosity most visited next to St. Nicolo, and it 
was indeed very fine; visited likewise other convents, 
Capucins and Minims, out of town, pleasantly situated, 
cool cloisters, orange and lemon little groves in them, fine 
views, delicious living. Jesuits in the city, one of them 
upon our demanding to see their library, asked whether 
we had confessed, and sent us first to see St. Nicolo. The 
adventure succeeding, the fountain sanctified by the bone 
of that saint lying in a marble case on the brink of it, but 
commonly thought to flow from the bone ; Head of the 
Franciscans, with great devotion, showed us the nail that 
nailed the knocker of the door which the angel struck to 
tell the mother of St. Francis that she should not be 
delivered till she came down to the stable, after the manner 
of the Blessed Virgin. Bari hath not above 9 noble 
families, merchants; streets narrow and dirty, buildings 
not beautiful. In the evening of this day we took a walk 
out of the town and searched for tarantuli ; they shewed 
us certain spiders with red bodies for them, or certain 
reddish spiders : the environs extremely pleasant. N. B. 
Inhabitants of Terra di Bari reckoned somewhat stupids 
N. B. We employed peasants at Canosa, &c., to find us 
tarantuli, but in vain, because the hottest season not the 
come. Returning we met a French officer, who invited u ^ 
to dine, and called on us next day, which we spent her^ 
hearing of Tarantati [sic] dance ^ 

* Bari is a seaport of southern ^ On the opposite pages of tl^e 

Italy, on the Adriatic, nearly 150 Diary Berkeley has here copied 

miles north-east of Naples, with a long passage from the disserta- 

a population now of above 50,000, tion of Baglini, entitled Dissertatio 

about thirty-three miles from Bar- de Anatomey ntorsuj et effedibus 

letta. Tarantulce. 


[BariJ May 23. 

The French officer, with the Abbate Fanelli and another 
Abbate, all concur in the belief of the tarantula, and that 
peremptorily, ladies of quality as well as mean folks bitten, 
e.g. a cousin of the Abbate Fanelli and the wife to the 
Ricevitore di Malta. Nothing given to the tarantati, they 
paying the music themselves. The number of the days 
of dancing not limited to three ; different instruments of 
music for different patients; they see the tarantula in 
the looking-glass, which directs their motions. The officer 
saw 30 tarantati dance together at Foggi. Tarantula like- 
wise found, say they, in the Campagna di Roma. Don 
Alessio Dolone told me the tarantati affected those colours 
that were in the tarantula, that he knew an old woman 
turned of 60, servant in a nunnery, that danced, &c. He 
would not believe it at first, but was then convinced. As 
to the time of dancing, he and another gentleman said it 
was not to a day the anniversary of their being bitten, but 
it may be some days sooner or later ; no bite discoverable 
in the patient. The tarantato that we saw dancing in 
a circle paced round the room, and sometimes in a right 
line to and from the glass ; staring now and then in the 
glass, taking a naked sword, sometimes by the hilt, and 
^lancing in a circle, the point to the spectators, and often 
very near particularly to myself, who sate near the glass, 
sometimes by the point, sometimes with the point stuck in 
Ws side, but not hurting him ; sometimes dancing before 
the musicians and making odd flourishes with the sword, 
^1 which seemed too regularly and discreetly managed for 
^ madman ; his cheeks hollow and eyes somewhat ghastly, 
the look of a feverish person ; took notice of us strangers ; 
^^d and blue silks hung on cords round the room, looking- 
glass on a table at one end of the room, drawn sword lay 
hy it (which he regularly laid down after using it), pots 
^f greens adorned with ribbons of various colours ; danced 
^'^ut half an hour the time or bout we saw him, had 
aanced before 4 hours, and between whiles was to con- 
"^ue dancing till night ; crowd of spectators, who danced 
'nany of them, and probably paid the music ; we gave 
?^oney to the music ; the man's bow to us as he came 
^^ I my danger from the sword ; he did not seem to regard 

s 2 


the colours. Tarantata likewise seen, daughter to a man 
of note and substance in the city; chamber or large hall 
adorned as the other, bating the sword and looking-glass ; 
danced or paced round in a circle, a man bearing a green 
bough decked with ribbons of gay colours ; she seemed 
not to mind the bough, colours, or company, looked fixed 
and melancholy ; relations and friends sate round the hall ; 
none danced but the tarantata. Her father certainly per- 
suaded that she had her disorder from the tarantula : his 
account that she had been ill 4 years, pined away, and no 
medicines could do good, till one night, upon her hearing 
the tune of the Tarantula played in the street, she jumped 
out of bed and danced ; from that time, he told us, he 
knew her disorder. He assured us that for 3 months 
before we saw her she had taken no nourishment except 
some small trifle which she almost constantly threw up 
again, and that the next day he expected (according to 
what he had found before) that she would be able to eat 
and digest well, which was, he thought, owing to her 
dancing at that time of the year. That this very morning 
she looked like death, no mark of a bite on her, no know- 
ledge when or how she came to be bitten. Girl seemed 
about 15 or 16, and ruddy look while we saw her. 

[Bari] May 24. 

Set out from Bari at 7 in the morning, the sea a quarter 
of a mile distant on left; the road stony, land likewise, 
loose stone walls for hedges; com, vines, fruit-trees as 
before, with extremely delightful small white houses. 
N. B. The gentry of Bari dare not lie during the summer 
in their villas, for fear of the Turks. 8 a clock we had 
an enlarged view delivered from the stone enclosures on 
the roadside ; houses now few or none. 8 J, rugged ascent, 
rocky unequal ground; land now wavy a little, hitherto 
from Barletta a plain; great stones and shrubs on the 
right; in a word, a large open tract since the rugged 
ascent, with little com and much shrub. 9+25', close by 
the sea ; rocky, unequal, great stones, shrubs and pasture 
among them, a few oxen, corn on right, not a house in 
view though the country quite open, not a tree but shrubs. 
10, the country again fertile, corn, vines and fruit-trees 


in abundance. N. B. Vines in Apulia unsupported ; world 
of fig-trees on right, corn on left, and open to the sea. 
ID -hi, along the shore, no strand but flat rock; corn 
reaped and standing in sheaves. Strike off a little from 
the sea; fig-trees very large, mulberries several, stone 
walls next the sea ; few or no trees in the corn ; the right 
well planted, few or no houses (I suppose) for fear of the 
Turks, which obligeth families to live in towns ; figs pre- 
dominant, though all the same trees as about Bari. Mola, 
small city walled round ; a castle ; old cathedral, suburb 
bigger than the city within the walls ; no place in the town 
to dress or eat our victuals in ; a merchant of the town 
gave us the use of an apartment to eat our own meat in, 
as likevidse a present of cherries. Mola hath a great and 
considerable trade; 5,000 souls in Mola; strange to see 
beggars live in houses of hewn stone ; 3 or 4 handsome 
cupolas \ 1+40', left Mola; well planted fruitful country 
as before. 2, a stony, rocky, shrubby tract, af , wood of 
large olive-trees, little corn, a large white monastery on 
the left in the forest of olives. 3h. 40 m., got out of the 
olive-forest; craggy ascent, rocky way close by the sea, 
loose stone wall on the right and rocks, shrubs, olive-trees. 
Pulignano in view; bridge over a valley or narrow glen 
among rocks ; unequal rocky ground ; another bridge over 
a chasm or glen. The town Pulignano small, inconsider- 
able, walls and towers of hewn stone ; passed by it, leaving 
it on the left at 4+20; rocky barren sea-coast, but on the 
right fruit-trees, corn, vines, almonds predominant ; locust- 
trees here, and between whiles ever since Barletta. 4 + 40, 
enter a grove of olives, some pears, &c. intermixed ; soil 
twixt red and yellow, stony. 5-1-50, corn reaped, the olive 
plantation divided into squares by loose stone walls, serving 
only to clear the soil of stones. 6 + 5, out of the olive 
grove or forest. This afternoon we had a ridge of low 
hills parallel to our road, a mile off on right, covered with 
trees for the most part. 6+ J, Monopoli'^ walled, 8,000 
inhabitants; 6,000 died of the plague twenty-two years 
3gone : steeple having all the orders ; palace on the right 
new and of a good gout, were not the Doric pilasters ill 

Mola, another seaport on the ' Monopoli, a seaport on the 

Adriatic, is about fourteen miles Adriatic, about thirty miles south- 
»n)in Bari to the south-east. east of Bari. 


proportioned ; cathedral, piazza indifferent, convents nine, 
nunneries four; trade in oil and almonds. Governor, 
a nobleman of Naples, Don Tito Reco, offered his house ; 
being refused, recommended us to the Franciscan convent 
without the walls; he walked us round the town; the 
friars' treatment of us ; the Definitore's conversation ; 
their retiring tower and ladder, their guns, preparations, 
watch against the Turk. 

[Monopoli] May 25. 

Left the convent at 6+30 ; stony road, stone walls, corn, 
open. 7, even road, red soil, corn, olives. 7 + 20, forest 
of olives; lose our way in this forest \ 10 +5; out of the 
olive forest into a corn-field ; pasture ; the sea about 
a mile distant; much wild thyme; pasture, olives, corn, 
shrub, stones, thyme. 10 + J, the same olive forest again, 
ii-hj, shrubs, corn-fields, pasture. 12 + |, serpents, copse 
or thicket, pasture, trees, olives, unequal craggy ground, 
i-t-io, forest of olives; dined under an olive-tree. 3-t-f, 
out of the forest into a thicket, wild thyme among the 
shrubs in abundance ; corn, thicket of shrubs again ; a few 
cows and oxen here, as through the whole kingdom, 
whitish; olive-trees and shrubs mixed, fields of pasture 
and corn among the shrubs. 7, the hills on our right all 
this day and half of yesterday end ; open country, with 
shrubs, &c. ; hollow stony road about a mile before Brundi- 
sium, where we arrived at 9 + J. Country round Brundisi 
well planted with corn and vines, but open, having few 
trees, and those fruit-trees. Appian Way near the town, 
which is ill built, straggling, poor. 

[Brindisi] May 26. 

Two pillars of white marble, the one entire, Corinthian 
and urn on the top, the other only pedestal and piece of 
the top, which fell and remained on the pedestal a. d. 1528, 

' [Liquefaction formerly at Gnatia exceeding dry all this morning. 
[Egnasia Org,"] as now at Naples. * Iratis Gnatia lymphis.' 

This left on our left hand for fear Hor. I. Sat. 5.] — Author. See 

of the Turks, which likewise caused Cramer's Ilaly, vol. II. p. 299, for 

the loss of the road : country further references. 



without any storm or earthquake, the intermediate parts 
falling out ; this looked on as a presage of the ruin of the 
city, which ensued in the war between the League and 
Charles V. The two pillars the ancient arms of Brundi- 
sium, as having been built by the son of Heracles, who 
erected two pillars at the Straits. The two pillars had 
figures of puttini, &c. above the foliage *. 
N. B. The following inscription on one of the pedestals: — 


QVAMiMPERATGRESMAGNiFiciQtBENiG desunt reliquae. 

* [Brundisium. N. B. Orange 
gardens in groves in the suburbs 
where we entered Brundisium. 
Bad air from choaking the port, 
and few inhabitants. Giro of the 
old city 7 miles, strong walls round 
it, whereof remains now much less, 
with vacant streets and piazzas. 

Fidelitas Brundusina the motto 
to their arms, i. e. the pillars. Two 
forts, the newest built by Philip, 
the second built on a tongue of 
land two miles from the town, 
reckoned the strongest in the 

ABP. Among reliques in the 
dome the tongue of St. Jerome 
and 12 heads of the iiooo vir- 
gins attending or accompanying 
St. Ursula. The magistrates are 
chosen (i.e. syndic, maestro -giurato, 
treasurer, &c.) by a child drawing 
balls of divers colours at hazard 
in the town-house in the presence 
of the governor and judge every 
day of the Vergine assunta. 

The island before the port of 
Bnindusium mentioned by Caesar, 
Bell. Civ., Lib. 3 ; first Libo and 
after that another of Pompe^s 
admirals having possessed them- 
selves of it to blockade the part of 
Caesar's army which remained in 

Brundisium the first town we 
came to in Terra d'Otranto, and 
Castelnetta the last in our return. 

Taranto and Brindisi, with all the 
towns below them, are in the 
province, which was formerly 
Messapia Salentina or Calabria. 
Air in most parts good, especially 
about Lecce : produce corn, wine, 
and oil in plenty ; also sheep and 
strong mules in plenty, which last 
are much esteemed : minerals also, 
as saltpetre, bolo Armeno, Terra 
Lemnia, and excellent salt for 
whiteness at Taranto. 3 abps. 
and 10 bps. ; the former Brindisi, 
Otranto, and Taranto. 

Strabo (Lib. 6) describes the town 
and ports as a stag's head and 
antlers, and as more convenient 
even than that of Tarentum, which 
had intus qucedam, vadosa. No 
vada there, but many in Brundi- 
sium. This the common passage 
into Greece, the opposite city of 
Illyricum, Dyrrachium, receiving 
on the other side. 

* Hinc latus angustum,' &c. 

Lucan 1. [ii.] 

'Gravis autumnus in Apulia 
circumque Brundisium ex salu- 
berrimis Gallise Hispaniaeque re- 
gionibus omnem exercitum vale- 
tudine tentaverat,* Caesar (Bell. 
Civ., Lib. 3), speaking of his army 
when he followed Pompey.] — Au- 

Brindisi (Brundisium) is about 
100 miles south-east of Bari. 


Several fragments of ancient pillars about the town, 
churches nothing extraordinary ; Capucins, fratres minores 
conventuales inter quos Monsignor Griego ; walk round 
the walls, of the old ones some ancient ruins ; a bishopric. 
I judge this, in proportion to the other towns, to contain 
about 4,000 or 5,000 souls ; as to the port and town, it is, 
as Strabo saith, a stag's head and antlers. We walked 
round the town and found some pieces of the walls of the 
ancient town, which was much bigger than the modem. As 
to the port, N. B. Five islands and the island with the castle 
or fortress, then a port or bay, and within that another 
port or bay, then the stag's front, then the horns on either 
side embracing ; a bishopric. N. B. An English seaman 
here demands our charity ; his working and earning twelve 
pence a day, his boxing with the townsfolks, his pretending 
to go to Naples, his shipwreck and companions going 
through the country \ Left Brindisi at 4+6; a bridge 
over a narrow sinus of the sea (i.e. one of the horns), 
olives and corn, vines, corn, and fig-trees, pasture and 
yellow flowers, corn, beans, oats, low shrub left, pasture 
right, coarse pasture; all this land open, sandy barren 
soil, here and there corn, low shrubs but no trees, a large 
extended plain, wild artichokes, long shrub, corn, shrub, 
corn. 7 + T, olive grove or forest, the trees of this and the 
other olive forests large and of great age ; corn on left and 
vines on right, more little farm houses or villas than usual, 
figs, pere muscadelle, vines; a village; Indian aloes 
common here and elsewhere; vines right, corn left, olive 
grove, corn, open country, spacious corn-field right, olive 
plantation left ; ample stubble right and left ; olive grove, 
vines, figs, pears, apples, &c. left ; vineyard right and left ; 
wine presses, olive grove. 8+ J, seeming all the way 
olive grove and large vineyards and corn intermixed. 
Long tract of open country, corn, pasture, fruit-trees. 
Leave at midnight; obliged to wait some time for the 
opening of the gates. 

* [At Naples informed of the murdering some Mahometan pas- 
villany of him and his comrades in sengers.] — Author. 


[Lecce] May 27. 

Function on Corpus Christ! day in Lecce ^ : standards, 
images, streamers, host, rich habits of priests, ecclesiastics 
of ^1 sorts, confraternities, militia, guns, squibs, crackers, 
new clothes. Piazza, in it an ancient Corinthian pillar 
sustaining the bronze statue of St. Orontius ; protexi et 
protegam; marble statue on horseback of Charles the 
Fifth, another on horseback of a King of Spain on the 
top of a fountain adorned with many bad statues; Jesuits' 
college most magnificent; fine buildings of hewn stone, 
ornamented windows, pilasters, &c. ; large streets, divers 
piazzas, fa9ades of churches, &c. ; inhabitants 16,000 ; 
eight miles from the sea; oil only commodity; convents 
fourteen, nunneries sixteen; streets open, pleasant, but 
crooked ; several open places ; situate in a most spacious 
plain ; gusto in the meanest houses ; nowhere so common 
ornamented doors and windows ; balconies, pillars, balus- 
trades, all of stone, the stone easily wrought ; incredible 
profusion of ornaments in the fafades of churches, convents, 
&c., pillars or pilasters (mostly Composite or Corinthian), 
festoons, flowerpots, puttini, and other animals crowded 
in the chapiters above the foliages, double friezes filled 
with relievo, i. e. beside the common frieze another between 
the chapiters. Took particular notice of the Jesuits' church, 
that of the Dominicans, nunnery of St. Teresa, convent 
of the Benedictines, of the Carmelites, nunnery of St. 
Chiara. These and many more deserved attention ; most 
of them crowded with ornaments, in themselves neat but 
injudiciously huddled together. The fa9ades of the church 
and convent of the Jesuits noble and unaffected, the air 
and appearance wonderfully grand ; two rows of pilasters, 
first Composite, second or upper Ionic, with mezzoninos 
above the second row of windows; windows in front 
twenty-six, and two between each pair of pilasters in 
front; orange-trees in the squares within the cloisters, 
long corridors before the chambers, which had each a 
door of stone ornamented like that of a palace. Some 
Greek MSS., as of Lycophron, Stephanus de Urbibus, 

* Lecce {Aletium) is now a considerable town in South Italy of mor e 
than ao,ooo inhabitants. 


and Homer in their library, but those dispersed, and no 
index that I could see. Twenty-five windows in front 
beside the church. Fafade of the Benedictines' convent 
and church wonderfully crowded with ornaments, as like- 
wise the altars generally adorned with twisted pillars 
flourished all over, and loaden with little puttini, birds, 
and the like in clusters on the chapiters and between the 
wreaths along the fusts of the columns. Nothing in my 
travels more amazing than the infinite profusion of alto- 
relievo, and that so well done : there is not surely the 
like rich architecture in the world. The square of the 
Benedictines is the finest I ever saw ; the cloisters have 
a flat roof and balustrade supported by double beautiful 
pillars with rich capitals, a fountain also and statues in 
the middle; the corridors above stairs are long, lofty, 
and wide in proportion; prospect into the town and 
country very pleasant ; each chamber of the fathers hath 
a noble balcony of stone, Corinthian and Composite 
pilasters in front ; the vast number of locusts ; in the 
piazza the pillar from Brundisium supporting a statue 
in bronze of St. Orontius. Cathedral handsome, much 
gilding ahd indifferent painting, modern architecture, noble 
steeples ; hospital rustic at bottom, double pilasters, Doric 
below, Ionic above, simple; seminary near the cathedral, 
rich facade, plain, neat, handsome square within ; bishop's 
palace, fine ascent by double stairs and balustrades, open 
arched portico. Fa9ade of the Jesuits' church ornamented 
but not redundantly, as noble as I remember anywhere 
to have seen, very fine ; as likewise that of the Nosoco- 
mium St. Spiritus, very neat and unembarrassed, in which 
Coripthian pilasters with festoons between. Houses gener- 
ally but two stories, but noble air and well proportioned 
in height to the breadth of the streets ; several fine gates 
nobly adorned ; interdetto ; people civil and polite, and, 
so far as we had dealings, honest and reasonable ; variety 
in the supporters of their balustrades; bold flights of 
architecture, as in the facade of the church of St. Matteo, 
a nunnery; garlands and coronets often round their 
pillars and pilasters. Church of the Carmelites very good, 
especially within ; now building out of their own stock, 
which is only 2000 ducats per annum, and to maintain 
twenty-six persons ; in the front a little diamond work, 


which they are sometimes guilty of. Dominicans, a Greek 
cross ; Carmelites, whimsical unequal figure ; others oval, 
&c. ; no remains of antiquity. Lecce seems as large as 
Florence in extent, but houses lower ; not a spout or sup- 
porter to the balustrade or balcony, but wrought in the 
grotesque figure of some animal, or otherwise carved ; 
horses, men, grifiins, bears, &c. supporting the balcony 
of the Benedictines' church, with a round window some- 
what Gothic ; stone handsome and well coloured. In 
no part of Italy such a general gusto of architecture. 
Environs well inhabited ; gates Corinthian and Composite ; 
Jesuits' convent vast building for fourteen fathers; no 
river ; their gusto too rich and luxuriant, occasioned with- 
out doubt by the facility of working their stone; they 
seem to shew some remains of the spirit and elegant 
genius of the Greeks [who] formerly inhabited these parts. 

[Lecce] May 28. 

8-hf, set out from Lecce; corn, sheep, pasture, olives, 
olive-grove. 10 + 25, quit the grove ; corn, sheep, pasture ; 
fine view to the left of a country well inhabited; white 
houses, extended fields, rows of trees, groves, scattered trees, 
the whole a wide plain. 11 + 10, corn, wide unenclosed 
plain, few trees, reddish soil, not very rich and somewhat 
sandy. 11 + 25, passed through Guagniano, a considerable 
village and well built ; stony road, corn, vines, fig-trees, 
stone walls for hedges, open stony ground, burnt grass, as 
indeed everywhere ; sheep, a small flock ; large vineyards 
right and left ; walnuts ; spacious corn-fields on left, behind 
them trees, and behind the trees a considerable town ; 
com right and left; beans. 12+5, olive grove, corn and 
vines and walnuts and almonds mixed with the olive-trees ; 
got out of the grove at 12 + 40; olives and vines to the 
left, open country, corn and scattered trees on the right ; 
flax, corn and olives right and left. 12 f 50, a wood, oaks 
and other forest trees thin, much underwood, oxen and 
cows, large birds like cranes, i + 20, quit the wood for 
a large plain covered with divers sorts of pretty green 
shrub and thyme, which we have often met with, and 
supply the place of heath and fern ; stubble, goats and 
sheep right ; corn right, shrub left, the country wide and 


flat ; scattered trees and groves in view, but no enclosures ; 
stony field on the right, open pasture, sheep and oxen ; 
corn, oxen ; air perfumed with spearmint growing over an 
ample space right and left. 2, Bracciano, a poor village, 
where we dined under a fig-tree by the side of a well in 
a poor man's garden, who helped us to a salad, &c. ; this 
village belongs to the Archbishop of Brindisi. 4, we set 
out from Bracciano. Large green plain, in which corn ; 
shrub, corn, pasture, cattle, goats, sheep ; small ascent ; 
shrub, wide stony field ; shrub and stony ground ; long 
tract of com, interrupted in one place with a little flax, 
in another with a few olives ; rocky ground and com on 
the left ; road rocky ; corn right and left ; parched pasture, 
amidst wall of huge uncemented stones grown rough with 
age, on the right. 7 + 5, Casal-nuovo; Franciscan con- 
vent ; treatment there ; friar at midnight knocking at the 
door and singing; Thomas and Scotus; conversation 
with the guardian in Latin, and another friar. Franciscans, 
except Capucins, not bitten or poisoned by the tarantula, 
those animals having been cursed by St. Francis; the 
habit worn twenty-four hours cures the tarantato. 

[Casal-nuovo] May 29. 

Walk out in the morning; meet a physician gathering 
simples in a field near the town. He judged the distemper 
of the tarantati to be often feigned for lewd purposes, &c., 
as the spiritati. The wonderful fountain, which, being 
in a great subterraneous grotto, runs into a cistern without 
ever filling it\ Great remains of double walls of huge 
stones, and fosse of the ancient Mandurium. The odd 
small old building, consisting of a double rotunda and 
a large niche at the upper end and some walls, as of a 
vestibule before it, said by the inhabitants to have been 
a temple of the Sun, afterwards turned into a church; 
some old pictures of saints on the wall ; seems built in 
the early times of Christianity. Many, if not most, of the 
great stones in the old walls seemed a composition of 
oyster and scollop shells entire, cemented together by 

' Berkeley here quotes Pliny, translation. He adds on the mar- 
Lib. II. c. 103, of which the descrip- gin, * N.B. The physician mistook 
tion of the fountain is an abridged Livy for Pliny/ 


hard plaster. Convents six, and one nunnery ; 8000 souls, 
though I think over reckoned, belonging to the Prince 
of Francavilla. Corn, flax, and cotton in great plenty 
about Casal-nuovo. 7 + 50, left Casal-nuovo ; corn, olives 
left ; few figs and walnuts right ; pasture amidst quarries ; 
roads very rocky ; low shrubs and thyme ; land open and 
poor ; corn and figs for half a mile before we come to 
Oria. 104-5, Oria, situate on a rocky hill ; chain of small 
hills about two miles long, and Oria on one of them. 
A bishopric; fragments of old pillars in the streets; 
goodly prospect to Gravina, Brundisium, Lecce, &c. In- 
scription as follows on a pedestal lying in the churchyard 
of the cathedral : — d. m. cocceia m. f. prima v. a. xx. 
. . . . M. coccEius FiLi-ff: piENTissiMJE. Plain of vast 
extent round on all sides; part of an old Roman wall 
near the castle; belongs to the Prince of Francavilla. 
N. B. Several caves or grottos in a rocky hill near Uria. 
Set out from Uria at i, after having dined wretchedly 
in a stable, that being the only place we could find in 
the town ; stony ground, corn and olives in abundance, 
figs, vines ; long tracts of corn and long tracts of vines 
alternately, olives and fig-trees; ditches on each side 
the road, and bramble hedges. 2 + ^, grove of olives, 
ground gently wavy. 2 + 40m., quit the grove; large 
open tract of ground, stony field, spacious field of oats, 
stony road, shrubs right, vineyard left. Francavilla about 
2 miles on our right ; vines right and left ; vineyard left, 
field of beans right ; ridge of fruitful hills about two miles 
off" on right; corn, beans. [Rudiae the country of Ennius, 
placed by Cluverius between Uria and Tarentum midway ; 
but we saw no ruins of that town. At Lecce they placed 
Rudiae within two or three miles of that city. M.] This 
afternoon single houses up and down the country thicker 
than usual ; few scattered trees throughout ; pasture and 
stubble ; cows, oxen, sheep, corn, and ciceri ; stony field, 
ploughed land, corn ; shrub on left, corn right ; beans, 
com ; stones and shrub right ; ample prospect of open 
country, pasture, ploughed land, &c., bounded by gentle 
hills or risings. Get out of the spacious stony shrub; 
easy descent; olive grove, corn, garden stuff. Gulf of 
Taranto in view ; large vineyard right and left ; parched 
rough pasture. S. Giorgio, a considerable town on our 


left; corn, open. Pass close by a village on our left; 
pasture and com; rough, stony, shrubby ground; flock 
of sheep almost all black, the common colour in these 
parts; large shrubby, stony tract, and corn &c. a small 
distance to the right ; slew a black serpent, 4 feet long ; 
ploughed land, com, shrub. 

Come to the side of an arm of the Gulf on our right ; 
great space of corn ; olives at a distance to the left, on 
a gentle hill ; the ridge of low mountains still continued 
on the other side of the sea ; tufts of ciceri, rushes, olives, 
corn, cows and oxen ; ascent ; shrub ; space of corn ; 
corn, olives, vines, the olive-trees large and many among 
the corn ; vines and fig-trees ; olives, vines, and gardens ; 
convents, houses ; olives, pasture ; corn left, convents and 
gardens right and left. Arrived at the Zoccolanti Scalsi 
{Barefooted Friars?] by 8-hJ. 8 + 3, open corn and 
Tarentum \ 

[Taranto] May 30. 

Taranto, trade in corn and oil ; inhabitants 15,000 ; no 
taste in the buildings; streets narrow and extreme dirty. 
Archbishop's palace noble; spacious apartments; loggie 
overlooking the whole Gulf of Tarentum : the security and 
noble prospect of that Gulf. Handsome seminary near 
the Archbishop's palace; logic, philosophy, theology, 
humanity taught in the same ; youth, secular and eccle- 
siastic, are taught, dieted, and lodged for 30 ducats per 
annum each. N. B. These seminaries common. Fine 
inlaid chapel in the cathedral, which hath likewise ancient 
pillars in the great aisle, with rude chapiters; various 
coloured marbles in the inlayings found in the ruins of 
the ancient city. Nothing more beautiful than this oval 
inlaid chapel, painted well enough above with the life of 
St. Cataldus, an Irishman, formerly Archbishop of Taren- 
tum, now patron of the city; his body behind the great 
altar. [The skull of St Cataldo in the silver head (which 
they say was finished by an angel) of his silver statue. 
His tongue also uncorrupted. M.J A Gothic building 
shewn for Pilate's house. Several noble families settled 

' Taranto {Tarentum) is more tarantula, which abounds in the 
than forty miles south-west of neighbourhood. 
Brindisi. It gives its name to the 



in Taranto. Tarantato that we saw dance here, no looking- 
glass or sword ; stamped, screeched, seemed to smile some- 
times ; danced in a circle like the others. The Consul, 
&c. inform us that all spiders except the long-legged 
ones bite, causing the usual symptoms, though not so 
violent as the large ones in the country. He tells me the 
tarantula causes pain and blackness to a great space round 
the bite; thinks there can be no deceit, the dancing is 
so laborious ; tells me they are feverish mad, and some- 
times after dancing throw themselves into the sea, and 
would drown if not prevented ; that in case the tarantula 
be killed on biting, the patient dances but one year; 
otherwise to the death of the tarantula. Ruins of old 
walls on the sea-shore, half a mile from modern Taren- 
tum. Ruins of an amphitheatre (different from what we 
had elsewhere seen, as being without the passages) i of 
a mile from the town, between the foresaid ruins and the 
town. A mile from town the same way an old church 
and the grotto or subterraneous passage from the little 
sea to the gulf, built of huge stones. All spiders, except 
those with very long legs and those in houses, white 
and black. The taking of the tarantula out with a straw 
nothing singular, and done without whistling or spittle. 
Tarentum now in an island, with two bridges. Two old 
columns of Verde antico in the chapel. The ruins of the 
amphitheatre defaced by the friars, who have a convent 
there, and a garden in the amphitheatre. Medals and 
intaglios found here; gold and silver, wrought and un- 
wrought, found along the side of the little sea, which makes 
them believe the street of the goldsmiths' shops was there. 
Com, wine, oil, fruits in abundance in the territory of Taren- 
tum. Consul says the scorpion likewise causes dancing \ 

^ Berkeley gives in a brief form 
information and quotations relative 
to Tarentum, now to be found in 
Cramer's Italy. He adds this 
note : — * Inhabitants of Taranto 
place their magazines of corn near 
the sea, which insinuates itself 
through, chiefly by the holes of 
the trabes, and sending in a 

moist vapour swells the corn to 
43 increase in the 100 : to prevent 
its rotting by this moisture, they 
change it every 8 days from one 
magazine to another. The experi-, 
ment easily made by weighing equal 
bulks of theirs and the peasants' 
corn just brought in. This affirmed 
by the Confessor to the Germans.' 


[Taranto] May 31. 

8 + J, set out from Tarentum. The ancient Tarentum 
on a tongue of land between two seas, same way by which 
we came towards Fagiano, a town of the Albanian colony. 
Left our last road on the left ; olives and com, and open 
corn-fields ; wide green wavy pasture, large flock of black 
sheep. No mountains in the heel of Italy. Coarse pasture, 
open corn ; all the way corn and pasture ; open country ; 
hills at our left distant, sea near our right. N.B. Mistake 
in the maps making the heel mountainous, there being 
nothing more than gentle hills or risings, and few of 
them. Dined with an Albanian priest at Fagiano, who 
treated us very civilly ; he could give no account of the 
first settling that colony. The men, he said, had been 
formerly employed in some wars of Italy, and during their 
absence the women taking no care of their books, they 
were destroyed; so their MSS. histories and records 
perished. isoo souls in Fagiano, all Albaneses, and 
speaking the Albanian tongueT their children leaAi the 
Italian at school. Fagiano a clean, irregular town ; instead 
of our thatched cabins, small, square, flat-roofed, white 
houses. The priest told us the arm, e. g. being bitten by 
the tarantula swelled, confirmed, as indeed everybody, 
that common notion of the tarantula's death curing the 
bite. His house very neat. Everywhere great respect for 
a knowledge of the English, owing to our commerce, 
fleets, and armies. Ancient Greek chapel painted with 
barbarous figures, and inscriptions much defaced, in 
characters partly Greek and partly barbarous. This priest 
never drank wine except at the sacrament, having an 
antipathy to it. Beside Fagiano, La Rocca, S. Giorgio, and 
3 or 4 more towns mostly Albanese, but Fagiano entirely. 
Bed of cuorioli, or broken shells of periwinkles, &c., along 
the shore of the small sea, used formerly, as they say, in 
dyeing purple ; wool in the fish called baricella, of which 
stockings, waistcoats, &c., like silk, but stronger. A little 
fish in the shell with the baricella, which, standing on the 
top of the open broad shell (the lower end being shaped 
like a horn, and always stuck in the ground), sees the 
approaching porpoise, and retreating into the baricella, 


gives him notice to shut his shell. Three or four drops 
of oil spilt on the sea enables fishers to see the bottom. 
Abbate Calvo said Count Thaun had given 40,000 pistoles 
for the continuation of his government the last year ; a grain 
per rotolo tax on the beef; the butchers discount with 
the town-collectors by little bits of stamped lead given by 
the free p^-sons for the tax of each rotolo. Two islands 
in the gulf that break the winds and make the harbour more 
secure. Taranto walled ; a strong castle ; soldiers 128. 

[Taranto] June i. 

I + i, set out from Taranto over the other bridge. Corn, 

large grove of olives ; com mixed with olives, being great 

old trees, as indeed in every other grove ; corn-fields 

corn, apples, olives, pomegranates, and other fruit-trees 

shrub and corn-fields ; a forest J of a mile distant left 

ridge of low fruitful hills or risings all the way about a mile 

and a half distant on our right. Town Matsafra on the 

side of the said ridge. The country we pass through plain, 

and though fruitful, hardly any houses to be seen. Dried 

pastures, unequal ground, being descent ; a small vale, in 

which tufts of rushes, olives, figs, &c. ; ascent, a small village 

on left ; corn-fields planted with young olives in rows ; 

long vineyards right and left, planted with figs and other 

fruit-trees ; poor pasture ; corn right, olives left ; a great 

open country, not a perfect level, but nearly so, consisting 

of pasture, corn, and a vast large shrub of wild thyme, &:c. 

5-1-35', ground wavy; some corn amidst the shrub; 

ru^ed stony ground, hills and vales mostly covered with 

shrub. 7 -f 32', out of the shrub ; corn-fields, grove of 

olives ; inequality of hill and dale ; ground rocky ; still 

olives, corn among the olives ; quarry of white stone on 

the right, wide corn-field on left ; road hewn through the 

rock ; com and olives on both sides ; stone walls, beans. 

8-hio', Castalneta; the people drawn up in the street in 

lines to see us ; the number of clergy or abbates besides 

the regulars ; these loiter in the streets, particularly at 

Mandurium the Theatines. Letter to the Dominicans from 

a clergyman at Taranto ; their inhospitality in refusing to 

lodge us ; we are received at the Capucins ; sit round their 

fire in the kitchen. Castalneta belongs to the Prince of 



Acquaviva, of a Genoese family. A bishopric, 6000 souls ; 
3 convents of men and 2 of women ; city dirty, and nothing 
remarkable in art, nature, or antiquity. Odd to find the 
fame of Whig and Tory spread so far as the inland parts 
of South Italy; and yet one of the most knowing fathers 
asked whether Ireland were a large town. [Library 
Scholastic, and some expositors with a few fathers in a 
small room. One or two Classics. They take it ill to 
be asked if they have any poets. In another convent, they 
said, ' What have we to do with Virgil ? we want good 
sound books for disputing and preaching.* M.] 

[Castalneta] June 2. 

Set out at 7 + 12', the friars in a body accompanying us to 
the gate of the convent. Land unequal ; corn, vines, figs, 
almonds intermixed ; corn, open country ; large shrub to 
the left, pasture and few scattered fruit-trees to the right ; 
shrub on right and left. 8 + 50', get out of the great shrub 
into a spacious tract of wavy country, or distinguished by 
risings ; in it not a tree in view ; some corn, some shrub, 
much the greater part stony pasture ; a small brook, no 
cattle nor houses, except one or two cottages, occur in this 
ample space ; sheep feed here in winter, in summer in the 
Abruzzo, grass here being dried up in the summer, and 
a fresh crop in September ; in the Abruzzo pinched with 
cold in the winter. These easy hills, or rather risings, 
and plains great mountains in the maps. This immense 
region to the right and left, a perte de vue, appears desert, 
not a man nor beast ; those who own the sheep mentioned 
are men of the Abruzzo, many of them very rich, and drive 
a great trade, sending their wool to Manfredonia, and so 
by sea to Venice ; their cheese to Naples and elsewhere 
up and down the kingdom ; they nevertheless live meanly 
like other peasants, and many with bags of money shan't 
have a coat worth a groat ; much cloth made at Venice. 
10 + 40', grass deeper, white, yellow, red, blue flowers 
mixed with it. 10 + 55', vast opening before and on the 
right, on the left rocky hills ; in all this vast tract not a tree 
or man or beast to be seen, and hardly 2 or 3 scattered 
poor houses ; an infinite number of butterflies, and shrubs 
mixed with the pasture. 11+25', rocky ground ; opening 


on right into a far extended green corn vale between green 
hills bearing corn to the very tops ; rocky hills left, stony 
ground, a vale before with corn and vines and a few trees. 
The hills round have corn, but no trees, except those on 
the right, which are barren and rocky, without either trees 
or com ; pasture, wild com, vines left ; corn right, vines 
left for a long space ; road cut through the rock. Incon- 
veniently cold for several hours this morning ; ciceri, vines, 
corn ; great quarries in rocky hills on our left ; few figs 
on left, corn on right ; rocky ground ; vines right and left. 
Matera 1+30; archbishopric, souls 17,000; they seem 
to misreckon, being deceived by the figure of the town. 
Houses 10 one above another like seats in a theatre, built 
down the sides of an oval hole ; more men cannot stand on 
a mountain than on the under plain. Dined in a garden, 
offered by a farrier of the town as we were looking for a 
tree in the suburbs ; the man very civil and well-behaved, 
which is the general character. Guardian of the Fran- 
ciscans* letter to Gravina ; he's displeased that we stayed 
not there in Matera, as Calvo had intimated in his letter to 
him. Nothing extraordinary in the buildings or churches; 
all these inland towns in our return inferior to those on 
the Adriatic. 6, set out from Matera ; vines, corn, walled 
gardens of fruit-trees, rocky road, wide opening descent, 
mostly high mountains at a distance on the left ; hills 
before ; pasture and corn ; hills and vales all green ; 
pasture, corn, shrub, the last but little and on the hills. Vines 
left, com, pasture ; the same hilly country continued in 
the night ; a world of shining flies ; rocky hills. Lost our 
way ; arrived after much wandering afoot at a Franciscan 
convent without the walls of Gravina at 11 in the night, 
dark \ [Grana dat et vina Clara urbs Gravina inscribed 
over a gate of the town. M.] Last reckoning of the in- 
habitants 9850; walled town, duke's palace, bishopric, 
cathedral ; well paved with white marble ; situate among 
naked green hills; 5 convents of men and 3 of women; 
unhealthy air in wet weather. Duke a wretch; princes 
obliged by del Caspio to give their own or the heads of 
the banditti with whom they went sharers. Priests count 
the number of their parishioners at Easter; Bishop of 

' Gravina, nearly forty miles south-west of Bari, on the river Gravina. 

T 2 


Gravina dead these two years, since which no bishop in the 
town, the Viceroy not admitting the person made bishop by 
the Pope, as being a foreigner. N. B. The Bishop of Matera 
12,000 crowns a year ; these bishops not so poor as com- 
monly thought. In Matera and Gravina they make a dis- 
tinction between nobile and cavaliere, the latter being 
esteemed the higher rank. 

[Gravina] June 3. 

Part from Gravina at 10; open green fields and hills 
mostly covered with com backwarder than in the plain; 
corn the commodity of the country. Here and there 
rocky; rocky barren mountains about three miles distant 
on right; not a tree; some trees on our right thinly 
scattered; a small brook; pasture and little corn. 11, 
great scene opening, long chain of barren mountains 
distant about 3 miles on right ; open pasture, not a tree, 
and pretty plain, wavy rather than hilly ; few blue 
mountains distant on left; a Uttle corn on the right, 
thistles left; for half an hour passed a green vale of 
pasture bounded with green risings right between our 
road and the stony mountains. 1 1 + 40, vast plain, corn, 
the greater part pasture between ridges of mountains ; 
Apennine on the left, old Vultur on the right; hardly 
a house on the plain or hills; the Vultur near and is 
a stony barren mountain, i -|- 20, a deep vale, diversified 
with rising hills reaching to the mountains on left, i + 25, 
Poggio Ursini, where we dined ; chaplain lent us his 
chamber in the Duke of Gravina's. Masseria, dirty ; the 
Duke spends some time there in hunting. Tarantula not 
in this country ; he hath seen several bitten with a black 
swoln mark as large as half-a-crown ; they knew not they 
were bitten till dancing; tarantula bites only in the hot 
months ; a peasant at Canosa laughed at their biting, and 
said he had often taken them in his hands. Duke of 
Gravina 30,000 ducats per annum feudo, and 30,000 
negotio. Doors and entrances of the houses dirty and 
forbidding here and elsewhere, but otherwise at Lecce. 
3 + 40, set out from Poggio Ursini along the same plain ; 
pasture, corn ; beans left, corn right. 4 + 10, descent into 
a vale ; pasture left, meadow right with hay made ; corn. 


plain, pasture, and green hills on right and left. After 
a little straying, turn to the left and descend ; tall thistles 
5 foot high ; corn in the vale ; corn and pasture. 5, great 
length of corn along the bottom of the vale on the right, 
small hills and large spaces of rising ground well covered 
with corn and pasture. [N.B. Italians living in towns 
makes 'em polite ; the contrary observable in the English. 
M.] Still between the mountains as before ; ample space 
again ; wood at a good distance on left, 2 of great length 
along the low mountains. 6 + 20, descend into a spacious 
plain (not a perfect plain, but rising lands and vales inter- 
mixed) ; corn, pasture, and wood ; not a house in view this 
afternoon. 6 + f, Spennazzuola, a village belonging to the 
Duke of Calabretta, inhabitants about 3000; this seems 
too many for so small a place, and yet I was assured it 
by a priest of the town ; 3 convents. Situate pleasantly, 
having on one side fine wood and hilly glens with trees 
and corn, on the other an open country, corn, and pasture ; 
fleas innumerable. 

[Spennazzuola] June 4. 

Set out at 6 + 1 ; open hills, corn, and pasture as before ; 
corn. 7 + }, large space of ground, shrub thin, and 
pasture; forest trees on the right, ridge of woody mountains 
three miles on left ; wide vale, shrub, and pasture opening 
to the left, displaying a delightful scene, a fruitful ridge of 
hills well wooded bounding the sight. 8, wood on right, 
and shrub succeeding. Lopalozzo, town on a pleasant hill 
on the left ; fruitful pleasant plain between ; over swelling 
hills and mountains on left; vale between gentle hills; 
pasture, corn, shrub; rising ground, corn, pasture and 
com in a long vale on right, wood on the gentle hill that 
bounds it ; rising land, pasture, shrub or copse ; descent 
into an ample plain; corn, shrub, pasture advancing 
obliquely to the woody mountains, beyond which higher 
mountains; delightful small vale, environed with gentle 
hills most crowned with wood, a river, or rather rivulet, 
running through. 9 + }, ascent, little space, through a 
wood ; rising open corn-field right, wood left ; beyond the 
corn on right, pasture with cattle, and beyond that chain of 
fruitful hills ; up and down through the skirts of a wood, 


soil Stiff reddish clay, glade opening to the fruitful hills on 
right. 9+40, large corn-field, bounded with gentle hills, 
a few scattered trees among the corn right, forest left; 
down a hill, at the bottom of which a rivulet, forest on 
both sides, long glade opening to the left bounded by the 
mountains. Left Acherontium, now Cirenza ^, on our left 
behind, on a mountain's top. 10 + 25, Brionre, a city on 
a mountain left, and Barial on the mountain side ; large 
shrub, being the skirt of the forest ; a large plain, shrub, 
pasture, much corn, in which Venosa. All this while 
advancing obliquely to the mountains on the left ; glyn, 
large walnut-trees in the same descending road along the 
right side of it, bits of old walls on our right of the road ; 
corn, vines, olives, &c. on the steep hills on either side ; 
pass over a brook at bottom of our descent, which stony ; 
stony ascent after the brook, grottos on the left; the 
same glyn, after turning, now on right. Arrived at 
Venosa^ at 12. Poor ill-built town inhabited by peasants ; 
souls 5000 ; bishopric ; churches mean. Statue of Horace, 
being a sorry Gothic bust placed on the frieze of a pillar 
in the place. Horatius Flaccus by name well known to 
all the poor men of the town, who flocked about to tell us, 
on seeing us look at the statue ; the men of this town in 
crowds gaping and following us about the town, the idlest 
canaille and most beggarly I have anywhere seen. Morsels 
of inscriptions in the walls, pieces of pillars and other 
ornaments of rich marble about the streets. Near the 
cathedral old brick walls shewn us for the house of Horace. 
* This,* say they, ' we have by tradition.* By the fountain 
remains of 2 busts, with an inscription maimed underneath, 
beginning ' C. Tullio ' ; fine white marble lion at the same 
fountain. Two or three more monumental stones with 
maimed epitaphs in a row. Venosa belongs to the Prince 
of Torella. 3, set out from Venosa, which is situate on 
a rising ground in a vale between the horns of the 
Apennine (the horn on our left entering the town, low and 
fruitful, the Vultur anciently). Rising ground, descent; 
walnuts, pomegranates, olives, figs, vines, corn; ascent, 
fruit-trees on right and left, corn, and pasture, and wavy 
plain. 4, along a narrow road between hills, thicket on 

* Acerenza. Org. 

* Venosa {Venusia)^ the birthplace of Horace. 


either side, vale ; brook on our left ; stony road ascend- 
ing, coarse narrow vale on the right bounded by stony or 
rocky hills; narrow between hills, vale opening. to the 
right, pasture, much corn, herd of swine. Leucrienna ; 
sm^ll river on the right running through the vale ; turn to 
the right through corn part ripe and part reaped ; pass a 
stream ; hills close on the left, vale with pasture and corn 
extended on the right. 6 + |, narrower between hills, 
presently large opening; ploughed land right, corn left; 
not a house this afternoon ; wide vale opening to the right 
and left ; old church ; green hills left, partly covered with 
wood ; corn reaped and ripe ; two little houses near each 
other. River Aufidus in view on right, running so as to 
make oblique angles with our road ; his banks deep and 
shore spacious, shewing him outrageous at certain times ; 
his margin adorned with green trees. 7 + J, crossed 
Aufidus ; steep ascent, then a spacious plain, corn ; corn 
everywhere suffers for want of rain. . Wide pasture after 
the corn ; flock of sheep, black as usual ; a straw cabin 
belonging to one of the Abruzzo shepherds ; ascent, stony 
coarse pasture full of thistles ; not a tree ; pasture less 
stony. Cappella, small town on a rock distant 6 miles 
left ; ample space of corn right and left. 9, ascend out 
of the vale. N.B. All this day environed by mountains. 
After our ascent through a difficult path, many ups and 
downs, stony, narrow and uneasy, among shrubby moun- 
tains, &c. on foot, we arrived in the night at an ample 
opening, much corn, and thence by an unequal stony road 
descended to the town of Ascoli, where we arrived at 
10 + i ^ While on foot in the dark, about \ a mile before 
our chaises (which we had lost and sought crying), we 
passed by some country folks eating beans in a field, who 
kindly asked us to partake. Ascoli hath 500 friars ; 
bishopric, 10,000 ducats ; Duke of Ascoli residing there, 
15,000 ducats per annum from tenants, besides 10,000 from 
negotio. Roman bricks and fragments in the walls of 
houses, several pieces of pillars, imperfect or defaced 
Roman inscriptions, grottos in the hill adjoining. Situa- 
tion on a hill, environed mostly by a plain, corn and 
pasture; not a tree; hills on the left. Inhabitants are 

' Ascoli {Asculuni Picenufn), Adriatic, on the river Tronto, at 
about fifteen miles west of the the mouth of which is its harbour. 


clergy and peasants. They boast of a saint's finger kept 
in a church of a convent on a hill overlooking the town, 
which, so far as the church is visible, prevents the bite of 
the tarantula. Convents in Ascoli 3 ; stone lions several 
here as at Venosa and Beneventum. 

[Ascoli] June 5. 

Set out from Ascoli at 7 ; descent, coarse pasture most, 
some com left ; plain, some com, much pasture ; plain, 
opening to the sea on right. 7 + f, bridge over the Cara- 
pella ; Villa Cedri about 10 miles wide on left on a hill ; 
ground dried and burnt like a turf. N.B. Mornings cold, 
afternoons hot; ascent, convent on right; soon after 
descent, some corn, most pasture, soil burnt black, road 
black like turf; large parched plain continues, bounded on 
each side by hills. 9 + f, ascent, then descent into a large 
vale ; parched ground, grass and corn, large grove of wild 
pear-trees right. Troja, on a hill before us, ascent ; large 
field of corn in a vale on right, better or less parched land 
than before. Troja left on our right about 6 miles. 10 + f, 
past a bridge over a perfectly dried stream ; stony road 
through woods ; out of the wood, hill covered with wood 
left, shrubby hills on right. 1 1 + 20, Ponte Bovino ; set 
out from Ponte Bovino, or the Great Inn, at 2 + $. Stone 
road through the Apennine on the side of the Cerbalus, 
which runs through the bottom of the glyn on left ; woody 
mountains right and left. Bovino, city on the mountain 
top left, the deep vale or glyn on left full of trees, spots of 
corn now and then, as well in the vale on left as on the 
mountain on right ; between whiles delightful openings of 
cultivated land among ; bridge. Bauro, town on the 
mountain left; long bridge over a glyn. Monte Leone, 
town on mountain right ; another bridge, dry ; river now 
and then shews itself; large fountain built of square stone, 
pleasant shading from either hand across the road. 6 + 20, 
the mountains sink on either side and the road opens, the 
wood decreasing ; fields of shrub, and corn mixed there- 
with, on the sides of the mountain ; flat slips of green corn 
along the bottom of the vale left ; bridge ; wood ends in 
shrub ; pasture and corn-fields on a hill left. Savignano 
left, Greci right ; both on points of hills. Out of the shrub 


into an open hilly country, corn and pasture ; bridge over 
a dry river, not a drop of water ; country grows more 
plain, wavy com country, not a house to be seen, hills 
fruitful. 10 + ^, Ariano ; after several hours of windy rainy 
cold weather ; forced to have a fire, being exceeding cold 
(not wet), the 5th of June, N. S.^ 

[Ariano] June 6. 

8+25, left Ariano; descent, large prospect of fruitful 
low hills covered with corn and trees like England right 
and left. Grove left, delightful prospect of wide vale and 
chain of adverse hills fruitful. Furmini on a hill left; 
descent for some time past; rising hills fruitful, yielding 
view like the county of Armagh. Brook ; Bonito on a 
fruitful hill right, the other brook or branch of Fumorella 
between Ariano and La Grotta. Wavy, hilly, open 
country; corn and grass, some hills (especially about 
La Grotta and on the sides at some distance) well planted 
with trees, others bare of trees; little shrub near La 
Grotta. La Grotta at 11; procession; peasants in fine 
clothes, host under canopy; firing guns, streamers and 
standards flourished ; confraternities, clergy, &c. ; red and 
blue petticoats, &c. hung out for arras. N.B. A procession 
in the same place before. Ascent between corn-fields, 
hills and vales thick scattered with trees ; ascent through 
enclosed road, on both sides fine gentle hills covered with 
corn and adorned with trees ; all this day cold, though 
wrapped in my cloak ; foggy, mizzling, bleak weather, like 
that in Ireland; beans, corn; ascent all the way from 
La Grotta to Fricento '\ Shrub and corn, long view of 
pleasant hills left, long grove of oaks on pleasant rising 
ground right ; ample fields on gentle hills, fern, corn, 
oaks; deep glyn or vale full of trees left, another vale 
right ; beans, corn, oaks scattered all about ; most ample 
prospect, opening hills, partly wooded, partly naked ; 
towns on points of hills, beautiful vales, elegant confusion, 
all this on looking to the north from a hill. [In a sanctuary 
on Monte Virgine are contained the bones of Shadrach, 
Meshach, and Abednego. This in the famous monastery 

* Ariano, a town in the Apen- ^ About forty miles north-east 

nines to the east of Benevento. of Naples. Frigento. Org, 


there resorted to for miracles, indulgences, and reliques 
numberless. M.] Stony road, com, top of a hill covered 
with fern ; short descent, corn. Jesualto in a vale right, 
vale of great extent running parallel to our road on right, 
and terminated on the other side by mountains finely 
wooded and thrown together. [Mons Tabor, anciently 
Mons Tabumus. M.] From Fricento (where we dined 
sub dio without the town, in the view of many people) we 
went down a descent of three miles, through wood, corn, 
and pasture, to the Amsancti lacus; triangular, whitish, 
stinking; about 40 paces about. Famiglietta threw in 
a dog, who, after half an hour, came out bones. Peasants 
find birds, hares, goats, wolves, &c. dead about it, and 
go to look for them in the mornings during summer : 5 
years agone 2 men found dead. The water good for the 
itch, wounds, leprosy ; cold ; thrown a yard high ; other 
the like lakes, but small ; depth unfathomable. Silver all 
turned yellow, whereas Vesuvius and Solfatara turn black; 
oaks smell, being burnt. Small stream hard by the lake, 
of a like whitish water. Stone hollowed at one end, 
somewhat like a font, said to be a remain of the temple. 
N.B. Our entertainment at Famiglietta's, &c. 

[Fricento] June 7. 

Vale, and beyond that vale, craggy, high, gfeen, shrubby 
mountain ; open fields ; woods ; fields planted with trees 
around; Vesuvio; towns and white houses scattered on 
the hills to the right, with Mons Taburnus; Amsancti 
valles to the left — this on looking to the west. Pianura, 
Campi Taurasini *, Benevento lontano ; flat ploughed land, 
wood in the middle — north. Trevico right, Ariano left; 
sea between naked mountains thrown variously together ; 
villages, ploughed land, and woods in the vale; Fiume 
Albi — east prospect. Amsancti valles; two fine woods; 
rising land between S. Angelo delli Longobardi right, 
and La Guardia delli Longobardi left ; high mountains to 
the right and left, lower before — south. Six bishoprics 
and 2 archbishoprics; Taurasi and La Torella. Fri- 
cento belongs to the Principe della Torella ; 25,000 souls 
[2500. M.] ; July and \ August without fires. An image 

* ? See Smith's Diet, of Ancient Geography^ art. ' Taurasia." 


on Monte Virgine protects the country about as far as 
visible from tarantulas, which, say they, are here likewise. 
Two bears slain last year in a neighbouring wood. 

[Ponte Calore] June 8. 

Set out from Fricento at 12 ; down hill ; corn, pasture, 
open ; a few scattered trees ; shrub left, corn, deep vale 
right; before, a vast opening, vale between rising hills, 
green, yellow, red, different shades of; corn-fields, with 
woods and scattered trees; lost the way among beans 
and corn ; got into the great road ; descent ; rising hills, 
corn, woods ; fruit-trees and few vines on either side the 
road ; adverse long hill or fruitful mountain on the other 
side the Calore ; Monte Mileto and Monte Fusco in the 
same. 6, left Ponte Calore; passed the river, which in 
Italy is large enough; ascent up a paved road; corn, 
pasture, trees; various rising ground. Monte Mileto 
left, on a hill covered with wood ; vines twining round 
trees left, corn and trees right ; vines hanging in festoons 
from tree to tree; Monte Fusco right; very good made 
road; immense prospect of vale and hills right, part 
wooded, part not. This view seen to advantage from 
Monte Fusco and Monte Mileto ; our road like lightning. 
8, got to the top, whence a new extended scene discovered 
of vales and hills covered with wood, likewise of high 
mountains, and several towns scattered on the sides and 
tops of hills ; country beautiful, fruitful, various, populous ; 
very many new towns in delightful situations, some on 
the points of hills, others hanging on precipices, some on 
gentle slopes, &c. Double most noble scene (just de- 
scribed both) seen from Monte Fusco, lying to the eastward 
and westward ; highest mountains right and left, covered 
with trees. Ponte del Prato ; large bridge, hardly a drop 
of water under it ; hills and vales all round, richly covered 
with trees, as well fruit as others, and vines and spots of 
corn; another bridge over a valley for the convenience 
of travelling. Prato, a town right ; ascent ; descent ; long 
bridge over a valley; cross a bridge over the Sabato, 
4 miles before we reach Avellino; shining flies. From 
Sabato we pass along an enclosed level road to Avellino, 
where we arrived at 10 + i^ Avellino reckons (I doubt 

^ Avellino, nearly thirty miles from Naples. 


misreckons) 30,000. 'Tis an open, handsome town, situate 
in a vale among high mountains covered with wood. 
Fountain and town-house adorned with busts and statues 
handsome enough. N.B, Best inn I met with in the 
kingdom here. 

[Avellino to Naples] June 9, 

Set out from Avellino at 6 + 50 ; a tall avenue of elms ; 
grove of hazels (much esteemed here) on each side the 
road, and vines in festoons from pole to pole among the 
nuts on left; avenue ends, being a mile long. All this 
way on right and left high hills covered thick with trees, 
chesnut or continued forest; large walnuts on the way- 
side; grapes in festoons on both sides. 8 + i, hazels end. 
8 + 20, pass through Monteforte, a small town; ascent; 
descent ; stony unequal road, between mountains covered 
with chesnuts close on either side; hazels, walnuts, 
chesnuts all the way; vines in festoons; large cherries, 
great number of trees thick laden with them all along the 
road ; hill on left almost naked, having only the stumps of 
trees; bridge. Pass through a village; vineyards in 
festoons right and left; village; vines and fruit-trees; 
another village ; figs, cherries, vines, &c. right and left ; 
village. II 4- J, vineyards right and left; olives and vines 
left, vines right. (N.B. Corn, hemp, &c. among the vines 
for the most part.) Vineyards right and left, i, Nola ; 
souls, 3000 ; 7 convents men, 5 women. 



First inscription under a statue in the court of a private 
house; 2 other inscriptions under 2 of the 4 statues 

^ Berkeley has here roughly copied two other inscriptions, printed 
in C. I. L. vol. X : — 





ancient in the place before the cathedral; one of the 
remaining two is of the same Pollius, the inscription of 
the other is defaced. The Bell. Bishop 4000 crowns, 
out of which pension 2000. Left Nola at 3 + f '. 'Thisus 
Alus Cujus, &c.' [sic in MS.] over the Jesuits' gate along 
the fa9ade of the convent ; apples, plums, cherries ; pears, 
apricots, vines, corn on each side the road. 4 + 1, festoon 
vineyards right and left, also corn; Campagna between 
mountains; Vesuvius left. 5 + I, a village; still festoon 
vineyards, elms, corn right and left, but no mountains, at 
least none in view. 6 + 5, village. 6 + |, village. N.B. 
The greatest part of this afternoon vines round elms 
without festoons. 8, Naples. 

[The following letter from Berkeley to Arbuthnot, com- 
municated by Arbuthnot to the Royal Society, and con- 
tained in the Philosophical Transactions for October, 171 7, 
may be introduced here as relevant to the Journal at 
this point. It consists of observations on an eruption of 
Vesuvius which he saw, partly when he was in Naples in 
April and the beginning of May, and in later outbreaks 
after his return from Calabria on June 9. 

' Extract of a letter from Mr. Edw. [George] Berkeley, 
giving several curious Observations and Remarks on the 
eruption of Fire and Smoke from Mount Vesuvio. Com- 
municated by John Arbuthnot, M.D., R.S.S. : — 

* April 17, 1717. 

'With much difficulty I reached the top of Mount 
Vesuvius, in which I saw a vast aperture full of smoke, 
which hindered the seeing its depth and figure. I heard 
within that horrid gulf certain odd sounds, which seemed 
to proceed from the belly of the mountain; a sort of 
murmuring, sighing, throbbing, churning, dashing (as it 
were) of waves, and between whiles a noise, like that of 
thunder or cannon,- which was constantly attended with 
a clattering like that of tiles falling from the tops of 
houses on the streets. Sometimes, as the wind changed, 
the smoke grew thinner, discovering a very ruddy flame, 
and the jaws of the pan or crater streaked with red and 

* Nola is about fourteen miles from Naples, which the travellers 
reached on the evening of June 9. 


several shades of yellow. After an hour's stay, the smoke, 
being moved by the wind, gave us short and partial pros- 
pects of the great hollow, in the flat bottom of which I 
could discern two furnaces almost contiguous : that on the 
left, seeming about three yards in diameter, glowed with 
red flame, and threw up red-hot stones with a hideous 
noise, which, as they fell back, caused the fore-mentioned 
clattering. May 8, in the morning, I ascended to the top 
of Vesuvius a second time, and found a different* face 
of things. The smoke ascending upright gave a full 
prospect of the crater, which, as I could judge, is about 
a mile in circumference, and an hundred yards deep. 
A conical mount had been formed since my last visit, in 
the middle of the bottom : this mount, I could see, was 
made of the stones thrown up and fallen back again into 
the crater. In this new hill remained the two mounts or 
furnaces already mentioned : that on our left was in the 
vertex of the hill which it had formed round it, and raged 
more violently than before, throwing up, every three or 
four minutes, with a dreadful bellowing, a vast number of 
red-hot stones, sometimes in appearance above a thousand, 
and at least three thousand feet higher than my head as 
I stood upon the brink : but, there being little or no wind, 
they fell back perpendicularly into the crater, increasing 
the conical hill. The other mouth to the right was lower 
in the side of the same new-formed hill. I could discern 
it to be filled with red-hot liquid matter, like that in the 
furnace of a glass-house, which raged and wrought as the 
waves of the sea, causing a short abrupt noise like what 
may be imagined to proceed from a sea of quicksilver 
dashing among uneven rocks. This stuff would sometimes 
spew over and run down the convex side of the conical 
hill ; and appearing at first red-hot, it changed colour, and 
hardened as it cooled, shewing the first rudiments of an 
eruption, or, if I may say so, an eruption in miniature. 
Had the wind driven in our faces, we had been in no 
small danger of stifling by the sulphureous smoke, or being 
knocked on the head by lumps of molten minerals, which 
we saw had sometimes fallen on the brink of the crater, 
upon those shots from the gulf at the bottom. But, as the 
wind was favourable, I had an opportunity to survey this 
odd scene for above an hour and a half together ; during 


which it was very observable that all the volleys of smoke, 
flame, and burning stones, came only out of the hole to our 
left, while the liquid stuff in the other mouth wrought and 
overflowed, as hath been already described. — June 5th, 
after an horrid noise, the mountain was seen at Naples to 
spew a little out of the crater. The same continued the 6th. 
The 7th, nothing was observed till within two hours of 
night, when it began a hideous bellowing, which continued 
all that night and the next day till noon, causing the 
windows, and, as some affirm, the very houses in Naples 
to shake. From that time it spewed vast quantities of 
molten stuff to the south, which streamed down the 
mountain like a great pot boiling over. This evening I 
returned from a voyage through Apulia, and was surprised, 
passing by the north side of the mountain, to see a great 
quantity of ruddy smoke lie along a huge tract of sky over 
the river of molten stuff, which was itself out of sight. 
The 9th, Vesuvius raged less violently : that night we saw 
from Naples a column of fire shoot between whiles out of 
its summit. The loth, when we thought all would have 
been over, the mountain grew very outrageous again, 
roaring and groaning most dreadfully. You cannot form 
ajuster idea of this noise in the most violent fits of it, than 
by imagining a mixed sound made up of the raging of a 
tempest, the murmur of a troubled sea, and the roaring of 
thunder and artillery, confused all together. It was very 
terrible as we heard it in the further end of Naples, at the 
distance of above twelve miles : this moved my curiosity 
to approach the mountain. Three or four of us got into 
a' boat, and were set ashore at Torre del Greco, a town 
situate at the foot of Vesuvius to the south-west, whence 
we rode four or five miles before we came to the burning 
river, which was about midnight. The roaring of the 
volcano grew exceeding loud and horrible as we ap- 
proached. I observed a mixture of colours in the cloud 
over the crater, green, yellow, red, and blue ; there was 
likewise a ruddy dismal light in the air over that tract of 
land where the burning river flowed ; ashes continually 
showered on us all the way from the sea-coast : all which 
circumstances, set off and. augmented by the horror and 
silence of the night, made a scene the most uncommon and 
astonishing I ever saw, which grew still more extraordinary 


as we came nearer the stream. Imagine a vast torrent 
of liquid fire rolling from the top down the side of the 
mountain, and with irresistible fury bearing down and 
consuming vines, olives, fig-trees, houses; in a word, 
every thing that stood in its way. This mighty flood 
divided into different channels, according to the inequalities 
of the mountain : the largest stream seemed half a mile 
broad at least, and five miles long. The nature and 
consistence of these burning torrents hath been described 
with so much exactness and truth by Borellus in his Latin 
treatise of Mount iEtna, that I need say nothing of it. 
I walked so far before my companions up the mountain, 
along the side of the river of fire, that I was obliged to 
retire in great haste, the sulphureous stream having 
surprised me, and almost taken away my breath. During 
our return, which was about three o'clock in the morning, 
we constantly heard the murmur and groaning of the 
mountain, which between whiles would burst out into 
louder peals, throwing up huge spouts of fire and burning 
stones, which falling down again, resembled the stars in 
our rockets. Sometimes I observed two, at others three, 
distinct columns of flames ; and sometimes one vast one 
that seemed to fill the whole crater. These burning 
columns and the fiery stones seemed to be shot looo feet 
perpendicular above the summit of the volcano. The i ith, 
at night, I observed it, from a terrass in Naples, to throw 
up incessantly a vast body of fire, and greiat stones to 
a surprising height. The 12th, in the morning, it darkened 
the sun with ashes and smoke, causing a sort of eclipse. 
Horrid bellowings, this and the foregoing day, were heard 
at Naples, whither part of the ashes also reached. At 
night I observed it throwing up flame, as on the nth. 
On the 13th, the wind changing, we saw a pillar of black 
smoke shot upright to a prodigious height. At night I 
observed the mount cast up fire as before, though not so 
distinctly, because of the smoke. The 14th, a thick black 
cloud hid the mountain from Naples. The 15th, in the 
morning, the court and walls of our house in Naples were 
covered with ashes. The i6th, the smoke was driven by 
a westerly wind from the town to the opposite side of the 
mountain. The 17th, the smoke appeared much diminished, 
fat and greasy. The 18th, the whole appearance ended; 


the mountain remaining perfectly quiet without any visible 
smoke or flame. A gentleman of my acquaintance, whose 
window looked towards Vesuvius, assured me that he 
observed several flashes, as it were of lightning, issue out 
of the mouth of the volcano. It is not worth while to 
trouble you with the conjectures I have formed concern- 
ing the cause of these phaenomena, from what I observed 
in the Lacus Amsanctt, the Sol/atara, &c., as well as in 
Mount Vesuvius. One thing I may venture to say, that 
I saw the fluid matter rise out of the centre of the bottom 
of the crater, out of the very middle of the mountain, 
contrary to what Borellus imagines; whose method of 
explaining the eruption of a volcano by an inflexed syphon 
and the rules of hydrostatics, is likewise inconsistent with 
the torrent's flowing down from the very vertex of the 
mountain. I have not seen the crater since the eruption, 
but design to visit it again before I leave Naples. I doubt 
there is nothing in this worth shewing the Society : as to 
that, you will use your discretion. 

E. (it should be G.) BERKELEY.'] 

Road from Rome to Naples. 

ist post 6 miles, through the flat campagna ; some hay 
and corn ; not a tree ; hardly a cottage. 

2nd post to Marino, 6 miles through the like flat 
campagna, though ascending insensibly towards Marino, 
which is a pretty, clean village, belonging to the Constable 

3rd post 9 miles, to Veletri. About 2 miles after 
Marino, pass by the lake of Castel Gondolfo on our right ; 
view of Castel Gondolfo ; land pretty well tilled in the 
beginning of this post. Within 3 miles of Veletri, steep 
descent to that city. This post over and among hills and 

4th post 8 miles and J. First mile and J through 
enclosures and trees ; 7 last through rising ground, being 
spacious, open, green corn-fields. Cisterna, seat of the 
Prince of Caserta. 

5th post 7 miles from Cisterna, the better part through 
^ forest with deer, belonging to the Prince. 



6th post 8 miles from Sermeneta, lying through the 
Campagna. A mile and i on the other side Sermeneta 
attacked for a giulio. N.B. The Campagna green, and in 
many parts woody, flat, and marshy ; no houses ; hardly 
any com ; no cattle, but a few buffaloes. 

7th post to Pipemo, seven miles. Near a mile in the 
Campagna di Roma ; the other 6 among hills and fruitful 
vales. Pipemo situate on a hill. 

8th post 8 miles : 2 first among wood and hills ; 6 last 
through a plain champaign, mostly uninhabited, &c. 

9th post to Terracina, 8 miles, along the side of shrubby, 
stony hills on lefl. Some ruins, seeming of sepulchres, 
on the road ; on the right Monte Circello in view. All 
this post on right marshy low ground, little cultivated or 

loth post to Fondi, 10 miles. Limits of the kingdom 
entered within 6 miles of Fondi. Near 2 miles beyond the 
boundaries passed on our left a sepulchre of huge square 
stones, very noble and entire, now turned into a stable for 
asses ; no inscription. The 2 first miles of this post close 
along the sea, being edged on the lefl by mountains ; many 
broken rocks as fallen in an earthquake on the road ; 
about 5 miles further having woody and stony hills on left 
close, and at small distance on right the Palus Pomptina ; 
land flat, marshy, hardly inhabited for the illness of the 
air. 3 last miles through a fruitful plane ; oranges, &c. 
before we reached Fondi. A small river seemed to render 
it marshy and unwholesome, flowing by the city on the 
side towards Rome. 

nth post from Fondi to Itri, 7 miles. First 3 or 4 miles 
over a plain, gently ascending, planted with cypress, 
orange, and lemon trees near the town of Fondi; last 
3 miles between and over hills on the Appian Way : these 
hills extend across to the sea. 

i2th post from Itri to Mola, 5 miles. Itri a town poor 
and dirty, but pretty large. This post enclosed between 
hills right and left ; many olives, almost all on the Appian 

13th post from Mola to the Garigliano, 8 miles. A large 
grove of olives, after which near 4 miles stony, unequal, 
shrubby ground ; 4 miles more, fine corn country, meadows 
also pleasant, and scattered trees in sight. Near the 


Garigliano we passed between an old aqueduct on the 
left and certain large ruins on the right, as of an amphi- 
theatre. This post we had the mountains near us on 
left and sea on the right Divers ruins, as seeming of 
sepulchres, this post on the road side. Greater part of 
this post on the Appian Way, whereof fragments appear 
entire, and ending abruptly, as if part had been cut off 
or taken away. Liris larger than the Vulturnus. N.B. 
Treeto on a hill on the other side the aqueduct. 

14th post from Garigliano to S. Agata, 10 miles. Ferry 
over the river ; open, large, flat, pleasant meadows along 
the Liris, which flowed on our left ; after which, chain of 
mountains on our right; country unequal, with pleasant 
risings ; within 4 miles of S. Agata country thick planted 
with vines and olives, especially the latter, of which a 
perfect wood near S. Agata. N.B. Sessa fine town 
within less than a mile of S. Agata. Henceforward to 
Naples the Campania felix, which begins either at the 
river Liris, or on the other side Sessa, the ancient Suessa 

15th post from S. Agata, 10 miles. 2 first miles through 
a country thick set with vines, olives, &c., in which the 
Appian Way, no more of which to Naples ; hills these 
two miles on left and right ; at the end of these two miles 
a village, [Cassanoj where the left view of the Appian road. 
After this village a hilly country, and great part of the 
road cut through a rock ; then a wood of oaks, cypress, 
&c. ; after which delicious country like the following post. 

i6th post 9 miles to Capoa, through delicious green 
fields, plain and spacious, adorned with fruit-trees and 
oaks so scattered and disposed as to make a most delight- 
ful landscape, much corn and fruit, many white country 
houses beautifying the prospect ; mountains on our left. 

^ Terra di Lavoro, 56,990, besides Naples, its casali, and 

^ The following notes are on wine plenty, 
the opposite page : — (2) Principato Ulteriore, pro- 

(i) Principato citra, all Picenza vincia Hirpina, with a small part 

[Picentia on the coast] with part of the land of the Samnites and 

of Lucania and Campania felix : Campanians ; of 13 cities, a, i. e. 

its metropolis Salerno. Cities 18, Beneventum and Conza, ABp", 

whereof Salerno and Amalfi are the rest Bp». Wine, chesnuts, 

A.BW, the rest Bp*. Grain and hunting, fishing. 

U 2 



about J a dozen more from towns whose fuochi ' are not 


Capua and casali . 
Caserta and casali 


1 184 


Fundi 188 

Itri 440 

Madaluni 749 

Principato citra Salerno. 


Auletta 119 

Eboli 355 

Nocera di Pagani . . . 536 


Salerno 1636 

Scafati 68 

Vietri 185 


Ariano 749 

Avellino 600 

Principato ultra. 




Lago Negro . 



Venosa 473 

Matera 2027 

Calabria bassa 6 citra. 

Castro Villari 
Cosenza . . 
Cassano . . 





Tarsia . . 


Calabria alta 6 ultra. 


Catanzaro 2651 

Cotronei 60 

Cotrone 446 

Isola 112 


Monteleone 1793 

Pizzo 442 

Rosarno ^70 

oeminara 945 

Terra d'Otranto. 


Brindisi 1428 

Castellaneta 691 

Casalnovo 1002 


Fagiano i^ 

Lecce 3300 

Taranto 1870 

* 1. e. families. 



Terra di Bari. 


Bari 2345R 

Barletta 1735R 

Canosa 269 

Gravina 1916 

Giovenazzo 628 


Monopoli 1864R 

Molfetta 1247 

Mola 1436 

Trani 787 

Visceglia alias Biseglia . 1692 

Capitanata (Lucera). 
Ascoli . 381. 

In the Kingdom of Naples — 

Princes 128 

Dukes 200 

Marquesses 200 

N.B. Reckoning the eldest sons and double titles. 

Counts 24 

Archbishops .... 21 
Bishops 127 

Gran corte della Vicaria, supreme court like (somewhat) 
to our King's Bench. Governed by the Regent of the 
Vicaria a Cavaliere, who therefore is assisted by judges 
civil and criminal. 

The great officers have the precedence, title, and stipend 
due to their places, but their power is exercised by the 
King; that of the Great Constable (i.e. Captain General) 
by the generals, colonels, capitani d'armi, &c. ; that of the 
Gran Giustitiere by the Regent of the Vicaria; and in 
like sort of the rest. 

Collaterale is the supreme royal tribunal, composed of 
the seven great officers, the Consiglieri di Stato and the 
Regenti, or of the 7 officers and Regenti della Cancellaria. 
This hath supreme power in making laws, punishing 
magistrates, commerce, &c. 

Sacro Consiglio, consisting of President and Counsel- 
lors. Anciently the kings of Naples appointed judges of 
appeal from the Vicaria and other tribunals. But Alfonsus 
the First of Arragon took away those judges, constituting 
this Sacro Consiglio di Giustitia to judge of appeals from 
all parts of the kingdom. Not only causes of appeal, but 
likewise first causes are determined by them, for which 
the President delegates such Counsellors to judge as he 
pleases. Their sentences are given in the King's name. 

Regia Camera, which takes cognisance of the royal 


income or patrimony (as they call it), i. e. taxes, customs, 
&c.; in a word, all that belongs to the Exchequer. 

Gran corte della Vicaria, above explained, but this 
its place. 

So much from Capaccio ; what follows next from Paci- 
chelli and others. 

i™<>. Tribunale is the Consiglio di Stato, consisting of 
such persons as Viceroy pleases : a sort of Cabinet 

20. Tribunale is the Collaterale, consisting of six regents 
of the Cancellaria, who have great power, or rather 
sovereign, in the management of affairs relating to civil 
institutions, commerce, &c. 

30. II Sacro ConsigUo, un Presidente con Ventiquattro 
Consiglieri, hears appeals, and also first causes : acts in 
the King's name. 

4<'. La Regia Camera detta la Sommaria ha per capo 
il gran Camerlengo ma esercita la Giurisdittione per un 
Luogotenente scelto dal Re. Under him are 8 presidents, 
doctors, and 3 presidents [?], idiots* advocate, procurator 
fiscal, secretario, registers, accountants, clerks, &c., qui 
si maneggia il patrimonio reale, &c., si affitton gabelle, &c. 

La gran Corte della Vicaria si amministra da un Luogo- 
tenente che si elegge ogni due anni dal Vicere detto 
Regente. This court is divided into the two udienze, 
civile e criminale, 6 judges to each. 

Divers other tribunals, as that of S. Lorenzo, governed 
by the eletti, 7 in number, but with 6 votes, one being 
chosen out of and for each Seggio, except that of Montagna, 
which chooses two, one for itself, and one for Porcella 
^ Seggio incorporated with it, but they have only one voice. 

N.B. The eletto del popolo is thus chosen: — Every 
ottina (of which there be 29, into which the whole city is 
divided, being the same with regions or wards) nameth 
two persons, which making in number 58, these assemble, 
and with the Secretary of the Piazza del Popolo form 
Revisori delli voti; after which every of the 58 names 
being eletto, which is oflen done with malediction and 
invective scurrilous, si bossolano e si notano i voti and 
the six with most votes are written in a note and carried 
to the Viceroy (by 8 persons chosen by ballot out of 
the 58), who names which he pleases for eletto. The 
58 likewise name a council of ten persons to assist their 


eletto. Every ottina likewise names 6 persons, whereof 
the Viceroy ciiooseth one for capitano 01 that ottina, who 
is a sort of justice of peace, taking care that no one 
offends or is offended in his ottina, take care of the 
poor, &c. ; great power commanding so great a people. 

Capitani and eletti del popolo govern as long as the 
Viceroy or the Piazza pleases, but ordinarily for 6 months. 

The power of the Tribunal of the eletti extends to set- 
ting a price on the annona ; take care also of the health, 
for which they appoint two deputies, one a noble the 
other a plebeian, who govern a felucca that visits all ships, 
boats, &c., and sees that nothing contagious enters the 
city. The eletti themselves pay a salary to these, and 
give out patents for ships parting from Naples, as likewise 
pay the man who watches to see the quarantine duly 
performed and goods aired. 

The Grassiero is a huomo Regio, or magistrate appointed 
by the King. He was first joined to the council of the 
eletti in a. d. 1562, in the time of the Viceroy Don Perafan 
di Ribera, Duke d' Alcalk, under the pretext only of 
providing the city with corn, but by little and little hath 
crept into all business, and now in fact is president of the 
Tribunal of the eletti, who can do nothing without him. 

Divers other tribunals or courts of lesser note, as la 
Zecca Regia per Pesi e Misure, per li Notari, per Dottori 
in Legge e Medicina, &c., &c. 

A parliament or deputation of 24 persons, 12 deputati 
del Baronaggio and 12 della cita di Napoli,give a donative, 
for which effect [they] use to be assembled by King's letter 
every 2 years. The city pays no part of these donatives, 
yet the deputies of the city are the first to vote and sub- 
scribe, and have precedence in all cases, but with this 
difference, that the city hath but one vote and the Baron- 
aggio 12, 6 titolatos and 6 plain barons. Their use the 
Donative. These deputies or parliament meet in the con- 
vent of S. Lorenzo ; the Viceroy at the opening goes to 
hear read the King's letter before the parliament by the 
Secretary of State, and at the close goes to receive their 
compliance with it. 

Giulio Cesare Capaccio assures us that in his time the 
garden herbs eaten every month amounted to 30,000 
ducats in the city of Naples ; likewise that the gabella on 




fruit (it not being J of a farthing per pound of our measure 
and money) amounted or (which is more) was set for 
80,000 ducats per annum, exclusive of oranges, lemons, 
bergamots, and the like. 

Four castles in Naples to protect and bridle the city : — 
Castel St. Elmo, Castel Nuovo, Castel dell' Ovo, and II 
Torrione del Carmine. 

Si ricavavano prima dal regno 5 milioni e piu di rendita, 
oggi pero se ne ritrahe da due millioni in circa. Paci- 
chello, published 1703. 

The nobility of the several parts or districts of the city 
of Naples were used anciently to assemble in certain public 
places or piazzas in each district, where they conversed 
together. These places being much frequented, they came 
to build certain open porticos, sustained by arches and 
railed round, where they met together, which in process 
were improved and beautified in imitation of the portici 
of the ancient Greeks and Romans, and separated or 
appropriated to those families that used to assemble in 
them; and from being places of mere chat or conversation, 
grew to be so many courts, in which they considered and 
debated on choosing magistrates and providing for the 
health and plenty of the city. N.B. The Seggios are five, 
viz. il Seggio di Capoana, di Nido, di Montagna, di Porto, 
di Porta nuova. 

Lac Virginis in Ecclesia S. Ludovici apud P.P. minimos 
S*^ Francisci a Paulo asservatum liquefit quolibet assump- 
tionis die. • 

Sanguis Johannis Baptistae liquefit quotidie in ecclesia 
qu^dam Neapoli prout mihi referebat Dux quidam Neapo- 

Sbirri 150 tyrannised the island of Ischia^ cruelly, on 

^ In what follows he passes 
from Naples to the Island of Ischia 
or Inarime {jEnarid), at the north- 
west extremity of the Bay of 
Naples. It is described by Berkeley 
to the poet Pope in the following 
interesting letter, on which the 
jottings that follow may be re- 
garded as annotations : — 

* Naples, October22,N.S.,i7i7. 

* I have long had it in my thoughts 

to trouble you with a letter, but 
was discouraged for want of some- 
thing that I could think worth 
sending fifteen hundred miles. 
Italy is such an exhausted subject 
that, I dare say, you'd easily for- 
give my saying nothing of it ; and 
the imagination of a poet is a thing 
so nice and delicate that it is no 
easy matter to find out images 
capable of giving pleasure to one 



account of seven persons who had slain one of their 
number. The relatives to the number of 100 taken up 
and imprisoned at Ischia; general orders that no one 

of the few, who (in any age) have 
come up to that character. I am 
nevertheless lately returned from 
an island where I passed three or 
four months ; which, were it set 
out in its true colours, might, 
methinks, amuse you agreeably 
enough for a minute or two. 

* The idand Inarime is an epitome 
of the whole earth, containing 
within the compass of eighteen 
miles, a wonderful variety of hills, 
vales, ragged rocks, fruitful plains, 
and barren mountains, all thrown 
together in a most romantic con- 
fusion. The air is in the hottest 
season constantly refreshed by 
cool breezes from the sea. The 
vales produce excellent wheat and 
Indian com, but are mostly 
covered with vineyards intermixed 
with fruit-trees. Besides the 
common kinds, as cherries, apri- 
cots, peaches, &c., they produce 
oranges, limes, almonds, pome- 
granate, figs, water-melons, and 
many other fruits unknown to our 
climate, which lie everywhere 
open to the passenger. The hills 
are the greater part covered to the 
top with vines, some with chesnut 
groves, and others with thickets 
of myrtle and lentiscus. The 
fields in the northern side are 
divided by hedgerows of myrtle. 
Several fountains and rivulets add 
to the beauty of this landscape, 
which is likewise set off by the 
variety of some barren spots and 
naked rocks. But that which 
crowns the scene, is a large moun- 
tain rising out of the middle of the 
island, (once a terrible volcano, by 

the ancients called MonsEpomeus). 
Its lower parts are adorned with 
vines and other fruits ; the middle 
affords pasture to flocks of goats 
and sheep ; and the top is a sandy 
pointed rock, from which you have 
the finest prospect in the world, 
surveying at one view, besides 
several pleasant islands lying at 
your feet, a tract of Italy about 
three hundred miles in length, 
from the promontory of Antium to 
the Cape of Palinurus : the greater 
part of which hath been sung by 
Homer and Virgil, as making a 
considerable part of the travels and 
adventures of their two heroes. 
The islands Caprea, Prochyta, 
and Parthenope, together with 
Cajeta, Cumee, Monte Miseno, the 
habitations of Circe, the Syrens, 
and the Lsestrigones, the bay of 
Naples, the promontory of Minerva, 
and the whole Campagna felice, 
make but a part of this noble land- 
scape; which would demand an 
imagination as warm and numbers 
as flowing as your own, to describe 
it. The inhabitants of this deli- 
cious isle, as they are without 
riches and honours, so are they 
without the vices and follies that 
attend them ; and were they but as 
much strangers to revenge as they 
are to avarice and ambition, they 
might in fact answer the poetical 
notions of the golden age. But 
they have got, as an alloy to their 
happiness, an ill habit of murdering 
one another on slight offences*. 
We had an instance of this the 
second night after our arrival, 
a youth of eighteen being shot 

♦ Berkeley mentions * the ugly habit of the Ischians of murdering one 
a.nother for trifles * in a letter to Percival, dated * Testaccio in Inarime, 
September, 1717.* 



remain in their houses in the country, all with their goods 
being obliged to repair to the towns; people met in the 
masserias beaten unmercifully. Fear and trembling, and 
no going to do their business m their vineyards for lo days, 
then allowed to return, some to their houses, others not. 
Cellars of wine throughout the island all this while left 
wide open at the mercy of the Sbirri. Relations of the 
banditti seized in the churches. Some few of the prisoners 
allowed the liberty of walking about the fortress. The 
prisoners most part poor old women, the men absconding 
and lying out of their houses in the woods for fear. Com- 
missario della Campa^a, with his Sbirri, continued about 
a month at Ischia. The inhabitants may kill one another 
without fear of punishment, this rout being never made 
but for the death of a Sbirro. We were alarmed and 
roused out of our beds by 35 Sbirri one night. 

The people of this island in other respects good enough, 
but bloodthirsty and revengeful. Those of Foria and 
Moropane of worfet fame for murdering, being said by the 
rest of the island to have no fear of God or man. 

The habit of the Ischiots : a blue skull-cap, woollen ; 
a shirt and pair of drawers ; in cold weather, doublet and 
breeches of wool. They wear each by his side a broad 

dead by our door : and yet by 
the sole secret of minding our 
own business, we found a means 
of living securely among those 
dangerous people. 

* Would you know how we pass 
the time at Naples? Our chief- 
entertainment is the devotion of 
our neighbours. Besides the gaiety 
of their churches (where folks 
go to see what they call una 
bella Devotione, i. e. a sort of reli- 
gious opera), they make fireworks 
almost every week out of devotion ; 
the streets are often hung with 
arras out of devotion ; and (what 
is still more strange) the ladies 
invite gentlemen to their houses, 
and treat them with music and 
sweetmeats, out of devotion : 
in a word, were it not for this 

devotion of its inhabitants, Naples 
would have little else to recom- 
mend it beside the air and situation. 
* Learning is in no very thriving 
stale here, as indeed nowhere else 
in Italy ; however, among many 
pretenders, some men of taste are 
to be met with. A friend of mine 
told me not long since that, being 
to visit Salvini * at Florence, he 
found him reading your Homer : 
he liked the notes extremely, and 
could find no other fault with the 
version, but that he thought it 
approached too near a paraphrase ; 
which shews him not to be suffi- 
ciently acquainted with our lan- 
guage. I wish you health to go 
on with that noble work; and 
when you have that, I need not 
wish you success.* 

* Salvini translated Addison's Cato. 


pruning-knife, crooked at the end, with which they fre- 
quently wound and kill one another. 

Piano now Pieio, Casa Nizzola now Casamici, Fiorio 
now Foria. 

A fine plain all round Pieio, planted with vines, com, 
and fruit-trees. 

The amphitheatre about a mile and half round the top, 
whence on all sides a shelving bank descends to the flat 
bottom, the which bank clothed with oaks. Oaks, elms, 
chesnuts, and cupe [cypress ?] in this island. East of the 
amphitheatre (which is called La Vataliera vulgarly) is 
a village called Cumana, and beneath a shady valley called 
II Vallone Cumano, between that village (seated on a 
mountain called II Monte di Borano) and a high mountain 
called La Montagna di Vezzi. 

Pleasant vineyards overlooking Ischia on the middle 
between the two towns. 

On the north side of the Cremate, about 2 mile long 
and I broad, fine hills covered with myrtle and lentiscus ; 
vales too among them, and towards the sea fruitful with 
vines, &c. Hereabouts Pontanus formerly had a villa. 
Onwards to the north-west you pass through roads planted 
with myrtle, &c., vineyards, and little inequalities of hill, 
vale, wood, shrub, &c. to the lake, about a mile round, 
on the border of which the Bagno di Fontana. 

Vistas in the island very various, as sometimes in a 
plain thick planted with trees and vines, obstructing 
a distant view ; at other times a patent prospect in a vale 
environed with fruitful hills, on which white houses 
scattered. Borano with its steeple makes a pretty prospect, 
being situate on a hill. Sometimes a deep road with high 
banks on either side, very refreshing in the heats ; some- 
times deep and tremendous precipices, many round hills 
gently rising, covered to the top with vines; sometimes 
horrid rocks and grottos, and clefts in the earth with 
bridges over them in some places. 

The bath Ulmitello lies to the south part of the island 
in a deep cleft between rocks, which opens into the strand 
of the sea ; it is a well or two without buildings. 

South of Testaccio there is a strange confusion of rocks, 
hills, vales, clefts, plains, and vineyards one above another, 
jumbled together in a very singular and romantic manner. 


North or north-west stands the Sudatorio di Castiglione 
in the side of a rock, on which Jasolino tells you may be 
seen the ruins of a castle since the days of Hiero. I saw 
some ruins of an old wall, but nothing that looked like 
Greek or Roman work, the stones and cement being but 
rude. I saw likewise the ruins of a piscina, or receptacle 
for water, well plastered. Between this rock and the 
sea, in the vale, lies Casa Cumana, a small village where 
Jasolin thinks the Euboeans first inhabited. Near the sea- 
shore, likewise in the vale, I saw the Bagno di Castiglione. 

Two eletti in the city of Ischia officers of the city 
supreme. When they go out of office they name each 
two candidates, out of which the eletti del popolo for next 
year are chosen by the parlamento, consisting of twenty 
persons, lo countrymen, ten citizens, the which parliament 
is new made reciprocally by the eletti as soon as they 
come into employment. This parliament consults of things 
relating to the well governing the town, assessing taxes, 
&c. In Foria they have a syndic for supreme magistrate, 
likewise chosen by the people; there is another syndic 
between Borano and Fontana, one year in Borano, and 
names a deputato to govern in Fontana, and vice versa. 
This magistrate sets prices on meat, bread, corn, wine, &c. 
Catapani are inferior officers that go about the shops 
inspecting bread, wine, measures, &c. So far Signor 

Jachino and Aniele say that once only in three years 
the syndic is in each of the 3 following towns — Fontana, 
Borano, Casamici, the syndic sending two deputati to the 
other places. Twenty men constitute the senate of each 
of these 3 towns, and Foria, which hath constantly its own 
syndic. These all vote for the eletti of Ischia, who (if 
1 mistake not) reciprocally make the syndics. 

Several gentlemen of Ischia taken up and sent, some to 
be imprisoned at Naples, others at Surrento, others at 
Caprea, at the same time that near 200 were imprisoned as 
relations of the banditti in the castle of Ischia. These 
gentlemen were taken up on suspicion of having favoured 
somehow the flight or concealment of them. Among the 
rest some of the eletti, Don Francesco Menghi, and Don 
Domenico Rinfreschi, a man of great note, were confined 
in their houses. 


South-west of the island, on the sea-shore near the 
Castle of S. Angelo, is the arena of S. Angelo, as also 
a hot bath. In some places a smoke and sulphureous 
smell issues from the sand; in others, making a hole, 
there suddenly issues out hot water, whith in a little time 
boils eggs, beans, or other things for the peasants. 

Natale saith there are forty in the parliament of Ischia, 
as many constitute that of Foria, 20 in the others. The 
eletti and syndics are proposed by the Marquis del Vasto 
or his Castellano, double to the respective parliaments, 
who choose which they like. 

The parliament men for life ; judge changed once a 

Ischia, Campagnano, Pieio, Cumana, Testaccio, Borano, 
Fontana, Moropane, Pansa, Foria, Casamici, Cufa. 

Inhabitants of Fontana keep flocks of sheep and goats. 
Lower parts of Monte S. Nicolo clothed with vines ; upper 
part with barley, wheat, and Indian com ; top naked and 
white. Fontana situate among oak-trees. Narrow, deep 
vales, like cracks in the earth cloven by an earthquake, as 
appears by the opposite sides tallying, as also from their 
shape : a bridge over one of these. 

Foria in a plain situate at a corner of the island, having 
a sort of mole and harbour ; the country about it full of 
vines and fruit-trees. Some rough land and ups and 
downs between that and Lo Lacco. This last town and 
Casamici situate among vines and fruit-trees, after which 
hills covered with myrtles and lentiscus, glyns, groves of 
chesnuts, &c. 

The clergy of Ischia get each a Caroline a mass ; the 
parish priest is not allowed to say above one mass a day ; 
admits others into share of the profits arising from masses 
for the dead. 

The number of the clergy in Ischia accounted for by 
their lodging the goods of the family in the name and 
under the protection of the priest, who in case of murder 
or the like crimes secures them from forfeiture. The 
bishop admits none to orders who is not invested first 
with the sum of 700 ducats. 

' Pontificum collegium usque ad Theodosii senioris 
tempora Romae fuit. Quibus uno edicto sacerdotum 
omnium reditus fisco applicati sunt.' Zosimus. 


Fat quails in Ischia sold for 3 farthings a piece ; these 
brought by wind from Africa hither and to Caprea, whose 
bishop's revenue, consisting mostly of quails, is uncertain 
as the wind. 

Women imprisoned at Ischia as relations of the banditti 
after divers weeks set free at five ducats a head. 

Quinces also and medlars in the island; and, among 
other fruits unknown to us, two deserving note particularly, 
viz. lazzeruoli and suorbi. 

The inhabitants make a good deal of money out of dried 
figs and uvae passae. 

Confraternity of 100 persons in Testaccio. When any 
one of these dies, a hundred masses are said for his soul 
at the expense of the society, it being a Caroline a mass. 
The like fraternities all over the island, as well as every- 
where else in Italy. The parish priest's fee is 7 carlines 
a death, a hen a birth, 15 carlines a marriage. On New 
Year's day, Easter day. Corpus Christi day, he dispenses 
indulgences, and all that are worth money bring it him on 
these occasions according to their ability. 

Mem. The celebration of St. George's (the patron of 
Testaccio) day and other festivals. 

Women's ornaments large gold earrings, and if married, 
many large gold rings set with false stones on their fingers ; 
but the principal finery consists in the apron, particoloured 
and embroidered with tinsel, &c. ; these worn only on 
holidays, no more than the rings. 

The Ischiots likewise make presents of their wine and 
corn, &c. to the church, for supplying wax candles and 
keeping it in repair. 

At certain times laymen go about begging money for 
buying wax candles. Meeting them once on a time, I 
asked them for whom they sought charity. A woman 
standing by said, 'For Jesus Christ.' 

Not a beggar to be seen in the island, except now and 
then a poor foreigner that comes to the baths. 

No stories or notions of ghosts among the common 

In marriages of Ischiots, the wedding-day, the relations 
of the bride, brothers, sisters, &c., accompany her to the 
bridegroom's house (her father and mother excepted, who 
always stay at home) : having left her there, they return to 


the house of the bride's father and there sup, as the 
relations of the bridegroom do at his house. Next morning 
relations of both parties bring presents of hemp, napkins, 
shirts, utensils for the house, &c. neatly done up in baskets, 
to the house of the bridegroom, where they are treated all 
that day at dinner. 

In burials the fraternities accompany the corpse; nearest 
relations mourn a month, not shaving their beards for 
so long. 

Burrhi [?] the chymist told Sealy he could do the miracle 
of St. Januarius' blood. 

This Sealy is a lively old man that has eat 2000 vipers. 
I have seen him eat them raw and moving. 

' Si quis piorum manibus locus ; si, ut sapientibus placet, 
non cum corpore extinguuntur magnae animae ; placide 
quiescas, nosque domum tuam ab infirmo desiderio et 
muliebribus lamentis ad contemplationem virtutum tuarum 
voces,' &c. Tacitus, In Vita Agricolce. N.B. This like 
papists praying to the dead. 

N.B. The description given of the Bonzi in Japan by 
Maffeius (Lib. 12) agrees to the Jesuits exactly, there being 
no such powerful and crafty institution among the old 
Romans as may serve to match them or be drawn into 

3 or 400 ducats a common portion for a woman in 

Sept. 7. N.S. 1717. 

Between 5 and 6 in the morning it began to thunder, 
and continued without a moment's intermission in one peal 
for the space of above an hour, during which time the 
south sky seemed all on fire. 

Quails said to be met in great numbers on the sea, 
swimming with one wing up for a sail. 

The demoniacs of S. Andrea della Valle something like 
the foaming priestesses or mad Bacchanals among the 

Mem. To consult V. Maximus for parallels to the Church 
of Rome. 

Oranges, lemons, olives, and medlars likewise grow in 
the island of Ischia. 

yr4 fMJfrMAf, FN fTALV 

M^flf tf'infUfT)% tm Vrfi z**^,, on the death of his father, 
ffKnfnlfi fw^r <1rtv<* ff/rTn ^11 nMiriJihmcnt, even a piece of 
iithnfi tit i*!irr (ffwnu* ; tUfthmu hit a cup of water. 

(n/'fil/fl«»' llrif'ff rtll ffifldr of hrmp. 

' tUhh ^M|ftn n («»lll^ vir^in^M vcMales pedibus abeuntes 
I Allfthh(i4 In plnnMnirn rrripit dcpositis inde uxore et 
Illf^tU' lltliikiMf( (if thr KngliMh merchant at Leghorn 
wlfM It'll \\U tHMlhrr nnt af IiIm will to leave all to the Jesuits 
HI hlMiM, |miIm mi(« in nilnci of thin. 

M\nul(iY nuM'hIng, Sept. 19, N.S. 

\ \\\\ \\v\\\\\v\s wMlunU v\^\\\, wiiul or thunder : saw three 

V ^0\h>^^^ ^^v^w, rt^ IvMWicrl^w Invuvrht to the temple of 

U\^^^\.^^\ ^^<\U\MV^ <w\u ^Jvs\ \\Mui<wncd fi>r pcisoiuE^ 

w^s^ \^\\^\t ^M^^ J \V>\ 'iVsii^tf <vA n^§ kco ia&ia: 

^'-*- -x^^ .-' >^ ^«'- O- — ^ * ^ 

S.s^ w»*^<iV ••-"-■' •■!'•.■' •" _ 


decorations of their churches, possibly somewhat like 
lectisterniums \ 

Qu. whether as incense, so wax candles, were used by 
the heathens. 

The leaves of myrtle and lentiscus dried and sent to the 
tanners in Naples. Qu. about this, and whether there may 
not a like use be made of leaves in England. 

Road between the lake and Ischia lying through the 
remains of eruptions. The stones I saw among these 
remains, particularly those worn under foot, confirm the 
streets of Naples being paved with the matter of eruptions. 

Strabo (Lib. 5) saith Procita was anciently broken oflf 
from Ischia : that the Eretrians and Chalcedonians (or 
people of Chalcis) were obliged to quit Ischia by earth- 
quakes and eruptions of fire, of which, saith he, there are 
many in the island : the same also obliged persons sent by 
Hiero to quit a building they had begun. Hence the fable 
of Typhoeus lying underneath it. He quotes Pindar as 
being of opinion that the whole tract of Italy, being from 
Cumae, and so on to Sicily, is hollowed underground with 
great caverns corresponding with each other. Hence 
iEtna, Vesuvius, Solfatara, Ischia, Liparean Islands bum, 
and that therefore he feigned Typhoeus to lie under that 
tract He likewise quotes Timeus for horrible eruptions 
and earthquakes from Monte Epomeo, which caused even 
the inhabitants on the coast of the continent to withdraw 
with fright into the midland parts of Campania. So far 

Pliny (Lib. 3. c. 6) saith Ischia was called iEnaria, from 
the good reception or station iEneas' ships met with there ; 
and P^thecusae, from the Greek Pytnos, signifying an 
earthen pitcher or sort of earthen vessel. 

Ovid, Metam. 1. 14 : — 

'Inarimen Prochytamque l^t sterilique locatas 
Colle Pjrthecusas ; ' 

1 On the opposite page Berke- " Vnra Giudas,'* &c. This was very 

ley writes thus : — ' N.B. About shocking to some serious Protes- 

6ve years since, or less, Mr. tants present. Qu. whether the 

Litllejobn was present at a repre- ancients did not, as a piece of 

sentation of our Savionr^s passion religion, represent or act certain 

at the Palace in Naples. It was passages of the history of their 

a comedy horridly ridiculous. As fabulous deities.^ 
Judas acted best, they cried out 



where Pythecusae and Inarime are plainly distinguished, 
the former seeming to signify only the town on the 

Mem. To consult Lucan (Lib. 5), and likewise for the 
Island Ischia. 

It is observable that Livy too distinguishes iEnaria from 
Pythecusae. The same passage (1. 8. d. i) of Livy makes 
the Eubceans to have inhabited Ischia before Cuma, which 
Strabo says was the oldest city in Italy or Sicily. Hence 
Ischia the most anciently inhabited. 

Aloes and Indian figs grow wild in several parts of 
the island, at least the aloes grow wild ; likewise dates, 
almonds, walnuts. 

The vista from S. Nicolo. South — Caprea, and moun- 
tains beyond the Bay of Salerno. South-east — Promontory 
of Minerva, and beyond that the Cape of Palinurus, vulg. 
Capo di Palinuro, Massa, Vico, Surrento, Castelmare, all 
on the side of a chain of mountains. East — Vivaro, 
Procita, Miseno, Baiae, Pozzuolo, Pausilypo, top of Naples 
or S. Elmo, Vesuvius. North-east — Cuma. North — 
Campania Felice, being to the sea, a large plain on the 
other side bounded by mountains. North-west — Montes 
Massici (as I suppose), Mola, Caieta, a small isle, &c., as 
far as the promontory of Retium. West — Ponsa, and two 
smaller isles more. South-west — the sea. 

In the fortress of Ischia, entrance cut through a rock ; false 
stairs ; garrison 1 10 ; nunnery ; pretty cathedral, clean ; 
ornaments in stucco, paintings so so ; bishop's palace ; 
prisoners obliged to buy the masseriae of the banditti, and 
pay besides 5 or 6 crowns a head. Dates and walnuts in 
the island of Ischia. Vivaro hath some vines ; a world of 
pheasants ; a mile and | round. Procita 7 miles round ; 
eight or ten thousand souls ; 8000 butts of wine the worst 
year, sometimes 15,000 or more ; yields the Marquis del 
Vasto 4000 ducats per annum, besides free gifts of 3 or 
4000 ducats now and then ; the latter sum was given by 
the University (as they term it) on his returning from 
making a great expense at Vienna. 200 feluccas or small 
boats ; 50 tartans \ What they make in all of wine, fruits, 
and fish, amounts to about 160,000 ducats per annum. 

^ Tartane, a kind of ship. 


Clergy 160, secular, whereof 120 parish priests ; likewise 
a Dominican convent; subject all to the Archbishop of 
Naples. Palace of the Marquis on the east or north-east 
point, rising, large, regular, handsome, unfurnished ; not 
lived in by the Marquis since Philip got possession of 
Naples ; he, being of the other party, then left the king- 
dom, and since lived at Vasto ; little garden of myrtles 
and jessamines belonging to it. Fine view, the whole one 
vineyard ; masseriae enclosed with stone walls ; houses 
thick like a suburb to a town. Heights at two ends, east 
and west ; on the latter a ruin, on the former the castle, 
and within that the palace. 

Harbour between Monte di Procita and Miseno. At 
the end of Pausilypo Nisita, where M. Brutus, about a mile 
round, hath a castle and 2 or 3 houses ; is thick planted 
with olives. Grottos in the side of Pausilypo. Virgil's 
school an ancient brick ruin; divers other fragments of 
brick ruin. (N.B.The first remarks belong to the further end 
of Pausilypo.) Palaces along the side or foot of Pausilypo; 
the hill all along crowned with villas, villages, vines, and 
fruit-trees. Pausilypo, Baiae, &c. all crack[ed] and broken 
in the surface, as if shaken to pieces. 

Since I came to Naples, a person formerly a waterman 
who tugged at the oar bought a dukedom; he is now 
Duca di Lungano. This I had as certain from the English 
Consul. Valetta and the other reckon but 2 millions in 
the kingdom of Naples, and not above five millions in 
Italy, a 4th in the city flying thither from the oppression of 
the barons who rule the country. 

The ashes on an altar in the south of Italy which no wind 
could stir. Livy. 

The Hebrew and Saint in Genoa. 

The holy water fright in Leghorn. 

After all it may be said that the greater part of the 
ceremonies and customs borrowed from the heathens are 
harmless. I agree, indeed, that the innovations of their 
own making are more mischievous than the adopted ones. 

Their vestals were not enough to thin a country ; 

their colleges of augurs, &c. did not swarm as modern 
friars ; they had no order to parallel with the Jesuits. 
Modern Rome hath inventions of her own worse than the 
old, and withal hath encheri upon the old. 

y. 2 


Solfatara pays 700 crowns per annum to the Annunciata, 
and 60 to the Bishop of Pozzuolo. 

Pontanus (1. 6) will have it that Ischia was torn by an 
earthquake from the continent, the land being like the 
Campagnia Felice in fertility. 

Nat. Comes, in Fabula de Typhone, saith that Ischia is 
most abundant and fertile, and rich in mines of gold ; the 
same saith Jasolino himself. 

Partenope (now called Venlotiene) on the west of Ischia, 
sea on the south and south-west, Caprea south-east, 
Surrento east, Procita and Naples, &c. north-east, Cam- 
pagnia Felice north. . 

Contiene (Ischia) promontorii, valli, piani, fonti, fiumi, 
laghi, penisole, isthmi, monti, bellissimi giardini e copia di 
soavi e delicati frutti, vini perfetti di piu sorti, gran copia 
di cedri, arancie e limoni, e miniere d'oro come anche 
dice Strabone [?]. 

Giovianus Pontanus had a villa near the ruins of the 
conflagration, as Jasolino saith, but I could hear nothing 
of it now. 

Between the Cremate and Casamici mounts covered with 
myrtle and other shrubs. 

Near the Sudatorio di Castiglione a vale in Jasolino*s 
time, called Negroponte. 

Alum in the island of Ischia. 

Monte and Castello di S. Angelo in una penisola. 

Fonte di Nitroli. The aqueduct that conveys the water 
of Buceto 5 miles, from near the top of Epomeus to Ischia 

Jasolino first printed in 1588. 

V. Plinium, 1. 3. c. 6; and 1. 5. c. 31 ; and 1. 31. c. 2. 

II fountains of fresh and 35 of hot medicinal waters are 
reckoned in Ischia. 

A foolish custom of taking the baths and stufe an odd 
number of times. 

The baths of Ischia not so useful in the bissextile 
years. This Jasolino affirms from his own observa- 
tion, quoting, like Savonarola, Baccio, &c. for the same 

It is usual to purge before the baths or stufe, to stay 
half an hour in the bath, and sweat half an hour after in 
the bed. 


Baths make one thirsty, and are apt to give the headache 
to those who are ever subject to it. 

During the baths beware of cold, use meats thai: are 
nourishing and easy of digestion, abstain from sleep by 
day, water your wine well, go to stool before you take 
the bath, be merry; in certain baths 'tis good to wash 

A piece of a sword, two fingers broad and a span long, 
passed between the ist rib and the jugular bone through 
the cavity of the thorax and the point between the 8th 
and 9th rib behind. This piece (thought to have been 
lost in the sand or sea) remained a year and 17 days in 
the body of a Napolitan gentleman, whence it was ex- 
tracted (after many terrible symptoms) by Jasolino, and 
the party re-established by the baths of Gurgitello and 
Fontana. The same baths probably enabled him to live 
so long with that iron in his body, the wound having been 
made in Ischia and the baths applied. 

B. di Fornello good for the ague, spleen (or rather dis- 
orders in the spleen) ; good for obstinate, deep, and sinuous 
ulcers, dropsy, headache ; breaks the stone, draws away 
sand, opens the bladder, helps in the gout, takes away 
nauseating of stomach. 

B. di Fontana heals wounds, draws out iron, good for 
lungs and liver, cures the mange or psora, makes the 
hair fair and long, restores wasted persons, draws out 
fragments of bones. 

B. di Gurgitello cures barrenness, repairs the consumed, 
strengthens the stomach, breaks the stone, good for the 
liver, cleans the psora, incites an appetite, draws out iron. 

B. degli denti et degli occhi vicine di Gurgitello. 

B. d'Ulmitello is good for the arthritis, tenesmus, gravel, 
cholic, ophthalmia, asthma, palpitation, ague, itch, leprosy, 
deafness, folks disordered in lungs or spleen. 

B. di Succellano, now called B. della Regna, is good for 
scab, lengthens the hair, clears women's complexion, is 
profitable to the bladder, eases tenesmus and ague. 

B. di piazza Romana takes away itching of the eyes, 
stops the running of tears, strengthens the eyes, purges 
bile, stops a cough, fastens hair, preventing its falling, 
cures broken legs. 

Sud. di Castiglione good for the arthritis, colic, mal del 


fianco, hysterical fits, gout, dropsy, palsy, weakness of 
limbs ; lightens the body, cures disorders of the liver, as 
when redness in the cheeks ; cures scab, itch, morphew, &c. ; 
comforts the heart, gives an appetite, helps digestion, is 
good for the vertigo, sores in palate, jaws, and gums, and 

S. di S. Laurenzo at Casamici good for arthritis, 
dropsy, &c. 

S. di Testaccio, a hole in the ground, about 4 foot deep 
and 3 wide, sending forth a vapour sulphureous with some 
tincture of nitre, calcanthus, and bitumen. This found on 
examining it by a glass bell by Jasolino. 

This milder than other sudatories, which frequently cause 
faintings ; good for softening le parti indurite, for evacuat- 
ing the whole body by sweat; lightens the body, dries 
internal wounds; good for the doglia del fianco, for 
hysterical fits and the dropsy, taken in the beginning; 
good for palsies and convulsions, &c., &c. 

Rainerio Solenandro parlando di Testaccio cioe del 
sudatorio. Cujus calor distorta crura vel quosvis alios 
statu deformi depravatos artus impositos cuniculo dirigit 
et reformat : quemadmodum a lignariis fabris videmus 
contorta ligna flammis dirigi et restitui. Lib. 1°. de Can. 
Cal. Font. Med. cap. 8. 

L' arenatione di S. Restituta mille passi lontana da 
Gurgitello. The terreno sulphureous, aluminous, ferru- 
gineous ; most excellent for the dropsy, dissolves swellings 
from the gout, cures hysteric affections ; perfect cure for 
the palsy and contractions of the nerves. Heats and dries, 
taken in beginning of summer or in autumn. Hole must 
not be more than 3 foot deep, otherwise hot water betrays 
itself. This water shews much salt beside the above 
qualities. The arenation is good against leprosy, abortions, 
orthritis, and dead palsy especially. 

Arena di S. Angelo, on the sea shore, above a hundred 
paces long and about 9 broad ; in some places hotter than 
in others; smokes and burns in some; hath a bath or 
fountain of water near. Nitre predominant, with iron, 
bitumen, and sulphur. Good for sciatica, gout, dropsy, 
abortions, palsy ; in a word, for everything that the former 
is, and in greater perfection. 

The foregoing accounts partly from the Ischiots, viva 


voce, but much the greater part out of Giulio Jasolino and 
Joannes Elysius, Napolitan physicians. 

Seely told me that he has drunk ten young vipers taken 
out of the womb, all living, as big as large pins, in one 
glass of wine. Takes powder of vipers dried in the shade, 
a drachm a day during the months of May and September. 
Sweetens the blood above all things. 

Manna in Ischia. 

Five dukes beside marquises, barons, &c., now living 
who bought their estates and titles from having been 
common merchants : one had been a waterman, now 
Duke di Castiglione ; another a porter, now Duke di San 

Borellus will have it that the cavities of iEtna are small 
tubes and receptacles near the surface, running along the 
sides of the mountain like S3^hons, which, incurvated, ex- 
plain the ascent or eruption of the liquefied matter through 
an orifice lower than the fountain head. He thinks this 
the way rather than boiling over like a pot, which is 
contrary, says he, to the gravity of that matter, as well as 
to its density, which hinder it from ascending or frothing. 
* Et hoc/ saith he, * historiae iEtneorum incendiorum satis 
persuadere videntur, nam nunquam observatum est ex 
altissimo ^Etnae cratere fluorem vitreum eructatum fuisse, 
sed tantummodo exiisse fumos et flammas quae magno 
impetu ejecerint arenas et saxea fragmenta, fluorem vero 
vitreum semper ex novis voraginibus apertis in diversis 
locis lateralibus montis exiisse.' Jo. Alphonsi Borelli de 
Incendiis iEtnae, cap. 13 ^ 

Borellus's slits in the side of iEtna explain those on 
Monte Epomeo '. 

Borelli in the right that the mountain is large enough 
to supply the matter flowing down the sides; that the 
mountain subsides or decreases in height, while 'tis 
enlarged in circumference ; that the rivers are made not 
so much of sulphur, bitumen, &c., as molten stones and 

* Borellus is one of the author!- sect. 249. 
ties referred to in the De MotUy ^ Monte Epomeo, in the centre 

sect. 9, 16, 19, 67 ; also in Alci- of Ischia. 
phrofiy Dial. VII, 9 ; and in Sms, 


The formation of Monte Novo in one night, and the 
covering of Inarime many foot deep (at least where I had 
an opportunity of observing), seem to contradict Borelli, 
where he thinks there are no such vast caverns, &c. 

Borelli saith all the liquefied matter is generated near 
the surface in the sides of the mountain, and that there is 
not only no deep vorago reaching to the level of the sea, 
but not any vast cavity (the bulk of the mountain internally 
solid stone, otherwise not able to support so vast a weight), 
and the uppermost vorago, according to him, not reckoning 
above loo paces deep. This to be contradicted : earth- 
quakes and workings in the sea prove large caverns. 

* £t magis Inarime, magis ut mugitor anhelat, 
VesbiuS; attonitas acer cum suscitat urbes.' 

Valerius Flaccus, Argon, Lib. 3, 

' Hsec ego Chalcidicis ad te, Marcelle, sonabam 
Litoribus, fractas ubi Vesbius egerit iras, 
^mula Trinacriis volvens incendia flammis.' 

Stat Sylv. Lib. 4 ad Marcellum. 


Diodorus Siculus will have the Cumaean field to be 
called Phlegrean from Vesuvius ; I should rather think it 
was from the Solfatara. Diod. 1. 4 de Hercule, 

Vid. Epistolam Plinii ad Taciturn. 

[Here follows a long extract in Latin from Xiphilini 
Epistola Dionis in Tito.] 

The head and face of Vesuvius changed by the eruptions 
often. In Strabo's time it seems to have been neither 
biceps, nor to have a hollow, being described a sandy plain 

Observable that the eruptions have been mostly, if not 
altogether, on the south sides ; the north been free. 

Virgil, in Georg. 2, enumerating the choice wines, omits 
that of Vesuvius, as also do other ancient authors ; whereas 
it is now found to excel all others. This owing to the 
great quantity of nitre from the eruptions since the age of 
Classics. Anciently the soil was famous for fruitfulness in 
corn, which it hath now lost, but is better much in wine. 

Justin (Hist. 1. 4. c. i) thinks the eruptions are supplied 
from the sea ; and I have heard Napolitans of good sense 


maintain that it was probably the sea water sucked in at 
the bottom of the mountain which flowed out at the top. 

Much nitre in Vesuvius; not so at Solfatara. Iron, 
silver, brass, or the like metals, vainly or poetically (as 
in the inscription) pretended to be in Vesuvius. 

Vesuvius reckoned 32 mile in circuit, and above two 
mile perpendicular height. 

It is pretended that in 31 * hot waters were spewed 
out of the crater, and that the sea was dried in great 
measure, which is brought to confirm Justin's thought. 

Islands formed in the sea, and motion without winds 
observed in the ocean, shew there are such portentous 
caverns as Borelli laughs at. 

Borelli saith ^Etna's top may be discerned by mariners 
at 200 miles distance, whence some have concluded it 
6 mile perpendicular height; but from evident reasons 
he perceives it not possible it should be above 3 mile 
high ; wherefore solves it being seen at that distance by 
supposing its top above the atmosphere. Qu. whether 
it may not more truly be solved by the refractive curve 
in an atmosphere of different density. 

The perimeter of ^Etna's base made by Borellus to be 
133 mile, and 3 miles its height. 

Seneca in Ep, 79 : ' Ignem in inferna aliqua valle con- 
ceptum exaestuare et alibi pasci non in ipso monte ali- 
mentum sed viam habere.' 

Last eruption of Vesuvius to the south-east. The great 
torrent in the widest part 3 miles broad esteemed. 

Altera Japoniorum classis eorum est qui nefaria gentis 
illius procurant sacra, capite ac mento prorsus abraso, 
inter quotidiana et occulta flagitia et stupra, coelibem nihil- 
ominus ac sobriam professi vitam, atque ad mortales 
decipiendos conciliandae pecuniae causa, in omne argu- 
mentum sanctimoniae gravitatisque compositi : iidem nobi- 
lium ac divitum exsequias ducunt, et alternantibus in odaeo 
choris, carmina suo more decantant, et dicendi copia et 
facultate praestantes concionibus populum arbitratu suo 
circumagunt. Variae ac multae numerantur eorum sectae : 
nee desunt qui ad quandam Rhodiorum equitum speciem 
bellicas una cum religione res tractent ; sed communi 

* i.e. 1631. 


omnes appellatione Bonzii vocitantur, honesto loco nati 
plerique : nam proceres multitudine liberorum et angustia 
rei familiaris urgente ex iis aliquos ad Bonziorum instituta 
ac familias aggregant. Multa insuper variis habent locis 
gymnasia quas Academias dicimus copiosis instructa vecti- 
galibus. Atque ob eas res praecipuum, ante banc hominum 
setatem, toto Japone obtinebant honoris ac dignitatis locum ; 
sed post illatas in ea loca faces Evangelii, fraudesque vulgo 
nudari et coargui cceptas, multum videlicet universo generi 
de auctoritate atque existimatione decessit. 

A man makes a fine entertainment of music and re- 
freshments, or he discharges a vast quantity of powder 
in mortalletti, or he makes an expensive firework, and 
this they call devotion, and the author devout. 

In the sudatory adjoining, Gregory the Great (Lib. Dial. 
4) says the Bishop of Capua saw the soul of a holy man 
doing penance. This he relates as a thing told and be- 
lieved in his time ^ 

N.B. The various dresses, aspects, and complexions of 
the Madonna. 

[The following notice occurs on the opposite page: — 
' The plebs (Valetta tells me) are in the interest of the 
Germans; most of the middling people, or gente civile, 
in that of the Spaniards. More lawyers among the Neapo- 
litans than in all Italy besides. Several Spanish families 
settled and mixed with the Neapolitan, and now become 
one with the people. He tells me that these eleven years 
that the Germans have been here they have not made one 
friendship, any of them, with the natives.'] 

Sealy's story of the piece of tongue stuck in the wall 
of a church, I heard told by him in presence of a marchese 
and a lawyer, who yet persisted in the belief of that absurd 
miracle, saying his unbelief hindered the operation. 

At Bari the thigh-bone of the saint was seen in an open 
stone chest on the side of the fountain, which had four 
lighted lamps round it ; this the German tells me, who 
saith the water most certainly did not run out of the bone, 
as he evidently saw. Yet at Naples men of quality and 
learning steadfastly believe this. 

One Saturday morning, a pewterer, our next neighbour, 
had a Madonna, being a painted, gay dressed baby, brought 

' This treatise is of very doubtful authorship. See Cave, Hist. Lit. 


from the Spirito Santo to his shop, which was hung with 
gaudy pieces of silk for her reception. She came in a 
chair, the porters bareheaded. Upon her arrival, mortal- 
letti were fired at the door of the pewterer ; the porters 
handing her out made a profound reverence ; the windows 
opposite and adjoining were hung with silk and tapestry. 
That night she was entertained with firework, as she had 
been the day with music playing in the street to welcome 
her. The next morning music again in the street, and 
firework at night. The Monday likewise music, and 
tapestry hung out as before. She was that day after 
dinner sent away in a chair, with salutations of the porters 
bareheaded, and with firing of mortalletti. 

St. Gregory (Lib. 4 Dialogorum) relates that S. Germanus, 
Bishop of Capua, being advised to sweat in the sudatory 
by the Lago Agnano, there saw the soul of Cardinal 
Paschasius doing penance. 

N.B. The Lago d' Agnano hath no fish, but abounds 
with frogs and serpents. 

Monday, April 11, 1718'. 

Set out from Naples after dinner; reached Capua that 
evening. Germans busied in fortifying the town against 
the approach of the Spaniards. 

April 12. 

First post through delicious green fields, plain and 
spacious, adorned with fruit-trees and oaks, so scattered 
and disposed as to make a delightful landscape ; much 
corn and fruit. 

2d post, good part of it like the foregoing ; then pass 
through a wood of oaks, cupi [cypress ?], &c. ; after that 
came into a country less plain ; hills, and great part of 
the road cut through rocks ; after which a village, Cassano, 
where we first meet the Appian Way. Mountains some- 
times before, mostly on our left, since we left Naples. 
Then through a country thick set with wine, oil, &c., to 

* The preceding letter to Pope, April ii in the following year, 

dated Naples, October 22, 1717, when the travellers were leaving 

is the last record of Berkeley in Naples on their way to Rome, 
that year. Our next is this, on 


S. Agata, having hills on left and right. Sessa, fine town, 
within less than a mile of S. Agata. 

3rd post 10 miles from S. Agata, thick planted with 
olives and vines; save a good part in the beginning, 
a perfect wood of olives ; chain of mountains on our left ; 
country somewhat unequal, with pleasant risings ; after 
this, open, large, flat, pleasant meadows along the Liris, 
which flowed on our right. Cross the Liris or Garigliano 
at ten miles from S. Agata, which is a posthouse and 
little else. Here the Germans had made a bridge of 
boats, which we drove over\ Having changed horses 
at Garigliano (a house or two so called), we passed on- 
ward between an old aqueduct on the right and certain 
large ruins on the left. Treeto on a hill on the other 
side the aqueduct, and in the last post we passed by 
Castelforte on the hills, also on the right. Fine corn, 
&c. country, till within about 4 miles of Mola, when it 
grew stony, and unequal, and shrubby; near the town a 
large grove of olives. This post we had the mountains 
near us on the right, and sea on the left. Mola a sea- 
port ; poor town ^. Divers ruins, seeming as of sepulchres, 
&c., this post on the road side. Greatest part of this 
post passed on the Appian Way, whereof fragments appear 
entire, and ending abruptly, as if part had been cut off 
or taken away. Liris larger than the Vulturnus. 

5th post from Mola to Itri. After a little way this post 
all enclosed between hills on right and left ; many olives ; 
almost all on the Appian Way. Itri a town poor and 
dirty, but pretty large. 

6th post from Itri to Fondi. First 3 miles prceterpropter 
between and over hills on the Appian Way ; then descend 
a few miles further to Fondi, over a plain well planted ; 
cypress, orange, and lemon trees near the town ^. 

* As they seem to have crossed trasts with the olive groves, while 

in a ferry-boat in coming from the middle of the picture is formed 

Rome, (p. 291 ) the bridge may by the Bay and the Promontory, 

have been constructed in the the background by the distant 

interval. hills. 

'^ The Cicerone, the inn at Mola ^ The scenery between Fondi 

di Gaeta, is supposed to be on the and Itri is beautiful, but travellers 

site of the Formian Villa of Cicero. in posting days were anxious to 

The scenery is lovely. The press on quicWy, as the inhabitants 

orange groves almost touch the had a bad reputation, 
shore, and their bright green con- 


7th post from Fondi to Terracina, 3 miles through a 
fruitful plain ; oranges, &c. Without the town a small 
river seemed to render it marshy and unwholesome, flow- 
ing by the city on the side towards Rome ; about 5 miles 
more, as I could judge, having woods and stony hills 
on right close, and at small distance on left the Palus 
Pomptina; land flat, marshy, hardly inhabited for the 
illness of the air. About 2 miles further close along the 
sea, being verged on the right by mountains, many broken 
rocks, as fallen in an earthquake, on the road. Near 
Terracina a grotto with an entrance like a large door cut 
in the rock, the face whereof is also cut even down, re- 
sembling somewhat the gable-end of a stone house. A 
fine square sepulchre of huge square stones I observed 
within less than two miles before we came to the bound- 
aries of the kingdom. It stood on the road to our right, 
and is become a stable for asses, a door being in one side 
of it, and no inscription. N.B. Having passed six miles 
from Fondi we came to the limits of the kingdom and 
entered the Roman States. Lie this night at Terracina. 

April 13. 

1st post 8 miles from Terracina to Limarudi, along the 
side of shrubby, stony hills on right ; some ruins, seeming 
of sepulchres, on the road ; on the left Monte Circello 
in view. All this post on left marshy, low ground, little 
cultivated, and uninhabited. 

and post 8 miles to Piperno, whereof six first through 
a plain champaign much like the foregoing ; the 2 last 
among wood and hills. Piperno situate on a hill or 

3rd post from Piperno to the next post-house, 7 miles, 
6 among hills and fruitful vales; [the last] almost entire 
in the Campagna di Roma. 

4th post 8 miles to Sermeneta, lying through the Cam- 
pagna ; a mile and half before we reached Sermeneta, a 
fellow extorted a Julio with his gun. [Cf. the 6th post 
in the Journey from Rome to Naples, p. 289.] N.B. The 
Campagna green, and in many parts woody ; still flat and 
marshy ; no houses, hardly any corn, no cattle but a few 


5th post 7 miles to Cisterna, where the dwelling-seat 
of the Prince of Caserta. We passed this post the latter 
part through a forest with deer belonging to the said 
prince. Few or no houses in the Campagna. 

6th post 8 miles and i to Veletri ; 7 first through rising 
ground, being spacious, open, com, green fields; the 
other mile and i through enclosures and among trees, &c. 

7th post nini miles to Marino, over and Imong hills 
and woods. Near 3 miles steep ascent from Veletri; 
after about 6 miles pass by Castel Gondolfo, situate in 
a lake seeming 3 or 4 miles round. The latter part of 
this post pretty well tilled. Marino a pretty clean village, 
belonging to the Constable Colonna. 

8th post from Marino to the next post-house, 6 miles 
through the flat Campagna di Roma. Overturned topsy- 
turvy in this post in the night. 

9th post 6 miles to Rome, through the flat Campagna ; 
hardly a tree or cottage ; some com. Arrived at Rome 
about ten o'clock last night, Tramontane reckoning \ 

[Berkeley here gives as notanda some extracts from 
Roman Catholic books. 

One he prefaces thus : — ' Instance of praying ultimately 
to saints out of an office recited at certain times, viz. on 
Fridays, in the church, called II Transito di S. Antonio 
di Padua : ' Oremus, &c. 

He refers also to the Gratie e Miracoli del Gran Santo di 
Padova : in Padova con licenzay anno 1703, p. 353. 

He quotes the Acta Canonizationis Sanctorum Petri de 
Alcantara et Marice Magdalence dePazzi^ Rome, 1669, p. 10, 
and remarks on the titles Sanctissimus and Nostro Signore^ 
which belong to the Saviour, being applied to the Pope. 

He quotes likewise other instances of praying to saints.] 

^ The above Itinerary is almost Percival on April 26, July 28, and 

identical with that in the former Nov. 13 of that year. On July 28 

part of the Journal, only in the he remarks that 'in Architecture the 

reverse order. old Romans were inferior to the 

Berkeley and his pupil seem to Greeks, and the moderns infinitely 

have lived much at Rome in 1718. short of both, in grandeur and sim- 

He writes from thence to Lord plicity of taste.* 





* Avaritia fidem, probitatem, caeterasque artes bonas subvertit : pro his 
superbiam, crudelitatem, Deos negligere, omnia venalia habere, edocuit* — 

' li qui largitionem magistratus adepti sunt, dederunt ope ram ut ita 
potestatem gererent, ut illam lacunam rei familiaris explerent.* — Cicero. 

* Omnes aut de honoribus suis, aut de praemiis pecuniae, aut de perse- 
quendis inimicis agebant' — Cjesar. 

First published in 1721 


This fervid Essay is highly significant biographically. It 
is the first emphatic expression of Berkeley's enthusiastic 
disposition towards social and economical questions and 
philanthropic idealism, which soon after its publication 
was directed to America, as the destined home of Christian 
civilisation in the future. It was published in London 
in 1 721, soon after his return from his second visit to 
Italy, when England seemed to him socially paralysed on 
the occasion of the South Sea catastrophe ; society through- 
out the Old World 'such as Europe breeds in her 
decay.' The social corruption of England struck him with 
dismay, even with despair, on his return, and the fear 
expressed in this Essay respecting the Christian civilisation 
of the Old World soon turned his hope for mankind to 
the World beyond the Atlantic, in which the race of man 
might enter on a new career. His active imagination 
and eager temperament probably exaggerated the evil 
symptoms in the ancient and, as it appeared, effete society. 

The Essay, at first published anonjnnously, was reprinted 
by Berkeley in the Miscellany, in 1752. 

AN ESSAY, &c. 

Whether the prosperity that preceded, or the calamities 
that succeed the South Sea project * have most contributed 
to our undoing is not so clear a point as it is that we are 
actually undone, and lost to all sense of our true interest. 
Nothing less than this could render it pardonable to have 
recourse to* those old-fashioned trite maxims concerning 
Religion, Industry, Frugality, and Public Spirit, which are 
now forgotten, but, if revived and put in practice, may not 
only prevent our final ruin, but also render us a more 
happy and flourishing people than ever. 

Religion hath in former days been cherished and 
reverenced by wise patriots and lawgivers, as knowing 
it to be impossible that a nation should thrive and flourish 
without virtue, or that virtue should subsist without con- 
science, or conscience without religion : insomuch that an 
atheist or infidel was looked on with abhorrence, and 
treated as an enemy to his country. But, in these wiser 
times, a cold indifference for the national religion, and 
indeed for all matters of faith and Divine worship, is 
thought good sense. It is even become fashionable to 
decry religion ; and that little talent of ridicule is applied 
to such wrong purposes that a good Christian can hardly 
keep himself in countenance. 

Liberty is the greatest human blessing that a virtuous 
man can possess, and is very consistent with the duties 
of a good subject and a good Christian. But the pre- 
sent age aboundeth with injudicious patrons of liberty, 
who, not distinguishing between that and licentiousness, 
take the surest method to discredit what they would seem 

^ The South Sea Company was incorporated in 171 1 for trading with 



to propagate. For, in effect, can there be a greater 
affront offered to that just freedom of thought and action 
which is the prerogative of a rational creature, or can any 
thing recommend it less to honest minds, than under colour 
thereof to obtrude scurrility and profaneness on the world? 
But it hath been always observed of weak men, that they 
know not how to avoid one extreme without running into 

Too many of this sort pass upon vulgar readers for 
great authors, and men of profound thought; not on account 
of any superiority either in sense or style, both which they 
possess in a very moderate degree, nor of any discoveries 
they have made in arts and sciences, which they seem to 
be little acquainted with ; but purely because they flatter 
the passions of corrupt men, who are pleased to have the 
clamours of conscience silenced, and those great points 
of the Christian religion made suspected which withheld 
them from many vices of pleasure and interest, or made 
them uneasy in the commission of them. 

In order to promote that laudable design of effacing all 
sense of religion from among us, they form themselves 
into assemblies, and proceed with united counsels and 
endeavours; with what success, and with what merit 
towards the public, the effect too plainly shews. I will 
not say these gentlemen have formed a direct design to 
ruin their country, or that they have the sense to see half 
the ill consequences which must necessarily flow from the 
spreading of their opinions ; but the nation feels them, 
and it is high time the legislature put a stop to them, 

I am not for placing an invidious power in the hands of 
the clergy, or complying with the narrowness of any mis- 
taken zealots who should incline to persecute Dissenters. 
But, whatever conduct common sense, as well as Christian 
charity, obligeth us to use towards those who differ from 
us in some points of religion, yet the public safety requireth 
that the avowed contemners of all religion should be 
severely chastised. And perhaps it may be no easy matter 
to assign a good reason why blasphemy against God 
should not be inquired into and punished with the same 
rigour as treason against the king. 

For, though we may attempt to patch up our affairs, 
yet it will be to no purpose ; the finger of God will unravel 


all our vain projects, and make them snares to draw 
us into greater calamities, if we do not reform that scanda- 
lous libertinism which (whatever some shallow men may 
think) is our worst symptom, and the surest prognostic 
of our ruin. 

Industry is the natural sure way to wealth. This is so 
true that it is impossible an industrious free people should 
want the necessaries and comforts of life, or an idle enjoy 
them under any form of government \ Money is so far 
useful to the public as it promoteth industry, and credit 
having the same effect is of the same value with money ; 
but money or credit circulating through a nation from 
hand to hand, without producing labour and industry in 
the inhabitants, is direct gaming \ 

It is not impossible for cunning men to make such 
plausible schemes as may draw those who are less skilful 
into their oWn and the public ruin. But surely there is 
no man of sense and honesty but must see and own, 
whether he understands the game or not, that it is an 
evident folly for any people, instead of prosecuting the 
old honest methods of industry and frugality, to sit down 
to a public gaming-table, and play off their money one 
to another. 

The more methods there are in a state for acquiring 
riches without industry or merit, the less there will be 
of either in that state ; this is as evident as the ruin that 
attends it. Besides, when money is shifted from hand to 
hand in such a blind, fortuitous manner that some men 
shall from nothing in an instant acquire vast estates without 
the least desert; while others are as suddenly stripped 
of plentiful fortunes, and left on the parish by their own 
avarice and credulity, what can be hoped for, on the one 
hand, but abandoned luxury and wantonness, or, on the 
other, but extreme madness and despair? 

In short, all projects for growing rich by sudden and 
extraordinary methods, as they operate violently on the 
passions of men, and encourage them to despise the slow 
moderate gains that are to be made by an honest industry, 
must be ruinous to the public, and even the winners them- 
selves will at length be involved in the public ruin. 

* So afterwards in the Qnerist, Qu. 1-47, 217-254, &c. 

Y 2 


It is an easy matter to contrive projects for the en- 
couragement of industry: I wish it were as easy to 
persuade men to put them in practice. There is no 
country in Europe where there is so much charity collected 
for the poor, and none where it is so ill managed. If the 
poor-tax fixed was fixed at a medium in every parish, 
taken from a calculation of the last ten years, and raised 
for seven years by act of parliament, that sum (if the 
common estimate be not very wrong), frugally and pru- 
dently laid out in workhouses, would for ever free the 
nation from the care of providing for the poor, and at 
the same time considerably improve our manufactures. 
We might by these means rid our streets of beggars; 
even the children, the maimed, and the blind, might be 
put in a way of doing something for their livelihood. As 
for the small number of those who by age or infirmities 
are utterly incapable of all employment, they might be 
maintained by the labour of others ; and the public would 
receive no small advantage from the industry of those who 
are now so great a burden and expense to it \ 

The same tax, continued three years longer, might be 
very usefully employed in making high roads, and render- 
ing rivers navigable— two things of so much profit and 
ornament to a nation, that we seem the only people in 
Europe who have neglected them ^. So that in the space 
of ten years the public may be for ever freed from a heavy 
tax, industry encouraged, commerce facilitated, and the 
whole country improved, and all this only by a frugal 
honest management, without raising one penny extra- 

The number of people is both means and motives to 
industry ^. It should therefore be of great use to en- 
courage propagation, by allowing some reward or privilege 
to those who have a certain number of children ; and, on 
the other hand, enacting that the public shall inherit halt 
the unentailed estates of all who die unmarried of either sex. 

^ We have here a characteristic 375-381. 

recognition of abuses apt to ac- ^ [This was published before 

company legal as distinguished turnpikes were erected.] — Au- 

from voluntary provision for the thor. 

poor, and suggestions of means for •'' Cf. Querist, Qu. 62, 87, 130, 

correcting them. Cf. Queristf Qu. 206, 217, 372. 


Besides the immediate end proposed by the foregoing 
methods, they furnish taxes upon passengers, and dead 
bachelors, which are in no sort grievous to the subject, 
and may be applied towards clearing the public debt, 
which, all mankind agree, highly concerneth the nation in 
general, both court and country. Caesar ^ indeed mentions 
it as a piece of policy that he borrowed money from his 
officers to bestow it on the soldiers, which fixed both to 
his interest ; and, though something like this may pass for 
skill at certain junctures in civil government, yet, if carried 
too far, it will prove a dangerous experiment. 

There is still room for invention or improvement in 
most trades and manufactures, and it is probable, that 
premiums given on that account to ingenious artists, would 
soon be repaid a hundred-fold to the public. No colour 
is so much wore in Italy, Spain, and Portugal, as black ; 
but our black cloth is neither so lasting, nor of so good 
a dye as the Dutch, which is the reason of their engrossing 
the profit of that trade. This is so true that I have known 
English merchants abroad wear black cloth of Holland 
themselves, and sell and recommend it as better than that 
of their own country. It is commonly said the water of 
Leyden hath a peculiar property for colouring black, but 
it hath been also said and passed current that good glasses 
may be made no where but at Venice, and there only in 
the island of Murano; which was attributed to some 
peculiar property in the air. And we may possibly find 
other opinions of that sort to be as groundless, should the 
legislature think it worth while to propose premiums in 
the foregoing, or in the like cases of general benefit to the 
public ; but I remember to have seen, about seven years 
ago, a man pointed at in a coffee-house who (they said) 
had first introduced the right scarlet dye among us, by 
which the nation in general, as well as many private 
persons, have since been great gainers, though he was 
himself a beggar, who, if this be true, deserved an honour- 
able maintenance from the public. 

There are also several manufactures which we have 
from abroad that may be carried on to as great perfection 
here as elsewhere. If it be considered that more fine 
linen ^ is wore in Great Britain than in any other country of 

' De Bello Civili, I. 39. ^ Cf. Querist, Qu. 74, 82, 83. 


Europe, it will be difficult to assign a reason why paper ' 
may not be made here as good, and in the same quantity, 
as in Holland, or France, or Genoa. This is a manu- 
facture of great consumption, and would save much to the 
public. The like may be said of tapestry, lace, and other 
manufactures, which, if set on foot in cheap parts of the 
country, would employ manjr hands, and save money to 
the nation, as well as bring it from abroad *. Projects for 
improving old manufactures, or setting up new ones, 
should not be despised in a trading country, but the 
making them pretences for stock-jobbing hath been a fatal 

As industry dependeth upon trade, and this, as well 
as the public security, upon our navigation, it concerneth 
the legislature to provide that the number of our sailors 
do not decrease — to which it would very much conduce, 
if a law were made prohibiting the pajnnent of sailors in 
foreign parts ; for it is usual with those on board merchant- 
men as soon as they set foot on shore to receive their 
pay, which is soon spent in riotous living ; and when they 
have emptied their pockets, the temptation of a pistole 
present money never faileth to draw them into any foreign 
service. To this (if I may credit the information I have 
had from some English factors abroad) it is chiefly owing, 
that the Venetians, Spaniards, and others have so many 
English on board their ships. Some merchants indeed 
and masters of vessels may make a profit in defrauding 
those poor wretches, when they pay them in strange coin 
(which I have been assured often amounts to twelvepence 
in the crown), as well as in ridding themselves of the 
charge of keeping them when they sell their ships, or stay 
long in port; but the public lose both the money and 
the men, who, if their arrears were to be cleared at 
home, would be sure to return, and spend them in their 
own country. It is a shame this abuse should not be 

Frugality of manners is the nourishment and strength 
of bodies politic. It is that by which they grow and 
subsist, until they are corrupted by luxury; the natural 

^ Cf. Querist J Qu. 74, 82, 83. ^ Cf. Querist^ Qu. 64-69, 144. 


cause of their decay and ruin. Of this we have examples 
in the Persians, Lacedemonians, and Romans: not to 
mention many later governments which have sprung up, 
continued awhile, and then perished by the same natural 
causes. But these are, it seems, of no use to us ; and, in 
spite of them, we are in a fair way of becoming ourselves 
another useless example to future ages. 

Men are apt to measure national prosperity by riches. 
It would be righter to measure it by the use that is 
made of them. Where they promote an honest commerce 
among men, and are motives to industry and virtue, they 
are, without doubt, of great advantage ; but where they 
are made (as too often happens) an instrument to luxury, 
they enervate and dispirit the bravest jjeople. So just is 
that remark of Machiavel— that there is no truth in the 
common saying, money is the nerves of war ; and though 
we may subsist tolerably for a time amongst corrupt 
neighbours, yet if ever we have to do witlua hardy, tem- 
perate, religious sort of men, we shall find, to our cost, 
that all our riches are but a poor exchange for that sim- 
plicity of manners which we despise in our ancestors. 
This sole advantage hath been the main support of all the 
republics that have made a figure in the world ; and per- 
haps it might be no ill policy in a kingdom to form itself 
upon the manners of a republic. 

Simplicity of manners may be more easily preserved in 
a republic than a monarchy; but if once lost may be 
sooner recovered in a monarchy, the example of a court 
being of great efficacy, either to reform or to corrupt a 
people; that alone were sufficient to discountenance the 
wearing of gold or silver, either in clothes or equipage, 
and if the same were prohibited by law, the saving so much 
bullion would be the smallest benefit of such an institution 
— there being nothing more apt to debase the virtue and 
good sense of our gentry of both sexes than the trifling 
vanity of apparel which we have learned from France, and 
which hath had such visible ill consequences on the genius 
of that people. Wiser nations have made it their care to 
shut out this folly by severe laws and penalties, and its 
spreading among us can forbode no good, if there be any 
truth in the observation of one of the ancients, that the 
direct way to ruin a man is to dress him up in fine clothes. 


It cannot be denied that luxury of Dress ' giveth a light 
behaviour to our women, which may pass for a small 
offence, because it is a common one, but is in truth the 
source of gr^ corruptions. For this very offence the 
prophet Isaiah denounced a severe judgment against 
the ladies of his time. I shall give the passage ' at length : 
* Moreover, the Lord saith, Because the daughters of Zion 
are hauehty, and walk with stretched forth necks and 
wanton lye^ walking and mincing as they go, and making 
a tinkling with their feet; therefore the Lord will smite 
with a scab the crown of the head of the daughters of 
Zion, and the Lord will discover their secret parts. In 
that day the Lord will take away the bravery of their 
tinkling ornaments about their feet, and their cauls, and 
their round tires like the moon, the chains, and the brace- 
lets, and the mufflers, the bonnets, and the ornaments of 
the legs, and the headbands, and the tablets, and the ear- 
rings, the rings and nose-jewels, the changeable suits of 
apparel, and the mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping- 
pins, the glasses, and the fine linen, and the hoods, and 
the vails. And it shall come to pass that instead of 
sweet smell there shall be stink ; and instead of a girdle 
a rent ; and instead of well-set hair baldness ; and instead 
of a stomacher, a girding of sackcloth; and burning 
instead of beauty.' The scab, the stench, and the burning 
are terrible pestilential symptoms, and our ladies would 
do well to consider they may chance to resemble those of 
Zion in their punishment as well as their offence. 

But dress is not the only thing to be reformed, sumptuary 
laws are useful in many other points. In former times 
the natural plainness and good sense of the English made 
them less necessary. But ever since the luxurious reign 
of King Charles the Second we have been doing violence 
to our natures, and are by this time so much altered for 
the worse that it is to be feared the very same dispositions 
that make them necessary will for ever hinder them from 
being enacted or put in execution. 

A private family in difficult circumstances, all men 
agree, ought to melt down their plate, walk on foot, re- 
trench the number of their servants, wear neither jewels 

' Cf, Querist, Qu, 102, 103, 141, 144-149, 422, 452 457. 
'^ Isaiah iii. 16-24. 


nor rich clothes, and deny themselves expensive diversions ; 
and why not the public ? Had anything like this been 
done, our taxes had been less, or, which is the same thing, 
we should have felt them less. But it is very remarkable 
that luxury was never at so great a height, nor spread so 
generally through the nation, as during the expense of the 
late wars, and the heavy debt that still lieth upon us. 

This vice draweth after it a train of evils which cruelly 
infest the public; faction, ambition, envy, avarice, and 
that of the worst kind, being much more hurtful in its 
consequences, though not so infamous as penury. It was 
the great art of Cardinal Richelieu, by encouragmg luxury 
and expense, to impoverish the French nobility and 
render them altogether dependent on the crown, which 
hath been since very successfully effected. These and 
many more considerations shew the necessity there is for 
sumptuary laws; nor can anything be said against them 
in this island which might not with equal force be objected 
in other countries, which have nevertheless judged the 
public benefit of such institutions to be of far greater 
importance than the short sufferings of a few who subsist 
by the luxury of others. 

It is evident that old taxes may be better borne, as well 
as new ones raised, by sumptuary laws judiciously framed, 
not to damage our trade, but retrench our luxury. It 
is evident that, for want of these, luxury (which, like the 
other fashions, never faileth to descend) hath infected all 
ranks of people, and that this enableth the Dutch and 
French to undersell us, to the great prejudice of our 
traffic. We cannot but know that, in our present circum- 
stances, it should be our care, as it is our interest, to 
make poverty tolerable ; in short, we have the experience 
of many ages to convince us that a corrupt luxurious 
people must of themselves fall into slavery, although 
no attempt be made upon them. These and the like 
obvious reflexions should, one would think, have forced 
any people in their senses upon frugal measures. 

But we are doomed to be undone. Neither the plain 
reason of the thing, nor the experience of past ages, nor 
the examples we have before our eyes, can restrain us 
from imitating, not to say surpassing, the most corrupt 
and ruined people, in those very points of luxury that 


ruined them. Our Gaming, our Operas, our Masquerades, 
are, in spite of our debts and poverty, become the wonder 
of our neighbours. If there be any man so void of all 
thought and common sense as not to see where this must 
end, let him but compare what Venice was at the league 
of Cambray with what it is at present, and he will be con- 
vinced how truly those fashionable pastimes are calculated 
to depress and ruin a nation. 

But neither Venice nor Paris, nor any other town in 
any part of the world, ever knew such an expensive ruin- 
ous folly as our Masquerade '. This alone is sufficient 
to inflame and satisfy the several appetites for gaming, 
dressing, intriguing, and luxurious eating and drinking. It 
is a most skilful abridgment, the very quintessence, the 
abstract of all those senseless vanities that have ever been 
the ruin of fools and detestation of wise men. And all 
this, under the notion of an elegant entertainment, hath 
been admitted among us ; though it be in truth a conta- 
gion of the worst kind. The plague, dreadful as it is, 
is an evil of short duration ; cities have often recovered 
and flourished after it; but when was it known that a 
people broken and corrupt by luxury recovered themselves ? 
Not to say that general corruption of manners never 
faileth to draw after it some heavy judgment of war, 
famine, or pestilence. Of this we have a fresh instance 
in one of the most debauched towns of Europe^, and 
nobody knows how soon it may be our own case. This 
elegant entertainment is indeed suspended for the present, 
but there remains so strong a propension towards it that, 
if the wisdom of the legislature does not interpose, it will 
soon return, with the additional temptation of having been 
forbid for a time. It were stupid and barbarous to declaim 
against keeping up the spirit of the people by proper 
diversions, but then they should be proper, such as polish 
and improve their minds, or increase the strength and 

* The abuses of the Masquerade royal proclamation. See Wright's 

were then the scandal of fashion- England under the House of Han- 

able life in England. About 1721, over, chaps. 3, 14. 

they were attacked in satirical as ' [Marseilles.] — Author. In 

well as serious pamphlets. On 1720 the plague broke out in 

a remonstrance by the Bishop of Marseilles, and is said to have 

London, this favourite amusement carried off 40,000 of the inhabit- 

of the town was the subject of a ants. 


activity of their bodies ; none of which ends are answered 
by the Masquerade, no more than by those French ani 
Italian follies, which to our shame, are imported and 
encouraged at a time when the nation ought to be too 
grave for such trifles. 

It is not to be believed what influence public diversions 
have on the spirit and manners of a people. The Greeks 
wisely saw this, and made a very serious affair of their 
public sports. For the same reason it will perhaps seem 
worthy the care of our legislature to regulate the public 
diversions by an absolute prohibition of those which have 
a direct tendency to corrupt our morals, as well as by 
a reformation of the Drama ; — which, when rightly man- 
aged, is such a noble entertainment, and gave those fine 
lessons of morality and good sense to the Athenians of 
old, and to our British gentry above a century ago ; but 
for these last ninety years hath entertained us, for the 
most part, with such wretched things as spoil instead of 
improving the taste and manners of the audience. Those 
who are attentive to such propositions only as may fill 
their pockets will probably slight these things as trifles 
below the care of the legislature. But I am sure all 
honest thinking men must lament to see their country run 
headlong into all those luxurious follies, which, it is 
evident, have been fatal to other nations, and will un- 
doubtedly prove fatal to us also, if a timely stop be not 
put to them. 

Public spirit, that glorious principle of all that is great 
and good, is so far from being cherished or encouraged 
that it is become ridiculous in this enlightened age, which 
is taught to laugh at every thing that is serious as well 
as sacred. The same atheistical narrow spirit, centering 
all our cares upon private interest, and contracting all our 
hopes within the enjoyment of this present life, equally 
produceth a neglect of what we owe to God and our 
country. Tully ^ hath long since observed ' that it is im- 
possible for those who have no belief of the immortality 

^ Among the passages in which regarding the immortality of the 

Cicero refers to a future life, human soul were discussed by 

I have not found one which ex- various writers about that time, 

actly corresponds with Berkeley's e. g. Collins, Discourse of Free- 

version. The opinions of Cicero thinking, pp. 135-140, &c. 


of the soul, or a future state of rewards and punishments, 
to sacrifice their particular interests and passions to the 
public good, or have a generous concern for posterity,' 
and our own experience confirmeth the truth of this 

In order therefore to recover a sense of public spirit, 
it is to be wished that men were first affected with a true 
sense of religion ; pro arts et focis^ having ever been the 
great motive to courage and perseverance in a public 

It would likewise be a very useful policy, and warranted 
by the example of the wisest governments, to make the 
natural love of fame and reputation subservient to pro- 
moting that noble principle. Triumphal arches, columns, 
statues, inscriptions, and the like monuments of public 
services, have, in former times, been found great incentives 
to virtue and magnanimity; and would probably have 
the same effects on Englishmen which they have had on 
Greeks and Romans. And perhaps a pillar of infamy 
would be found a proper and exemplary punishment in 
cases of signal public villainy, where the loss of fortune, 
liberty, or life, are not proportioned to the crime; or 
where the skill of the offender, or the nature of his offence, 
may screen him from the letter of the law. 

Several of these are to be seen at Genoa, Milan, and 
other towns of Italy, where it is the custom to demolish 
the house of a citizen who hath conspired the ruin of his 
country, or been guilty of any enormous crime towards the 
public, and in place thereof to erect a monument of the 
crime and criminal, described in the blackest manner. 
We have nothing of this sort that I know, but that which 
is commonly called the Monument \ which in the last age 
was erected for an affair no way more atrocious than the 
modern unexampled attempt '^ of men easy in their fortunes, 
and unprovoked by hardships of any sort, in cool blood, 
and with open eyes, to ruin their native country. This fact 
will never be forgotten, and it were to be wished that with 
it the public detestation thereof may be transmitted to 

^ The Monument erected (1671- scription on the Monument, added 

1677) to commemorate the Great in 1681, and erased in 1831. 
Fire of London. The Fire was at- -^ [The South Sea project.] — 

tributed to a Popish plot, in an in- Author. 


posterity, which would in some measure vindicate the 
honour of the present, and be a useful lesson to future 

Those noble arts of architecture, sculpture, and painting 
do not only adorn the public but have also an influence 
on the minds and manners of men, filling them with great 
ideas, and spiriting them up to an emulation of worthy 
actions. For this cause they were cultivated and en- 
couraged by the Greek cities, who vied with each other 
in building and adorning their temples, theatres, porticos, 
and the like public works, at the same time that they dis- 
couraged private luxury ; the very reverse of our conduct. 

To propose the building a parliament house, courts of 
justice, royal palace, and other public edifices, suitable to 
the dignity of the nation, and adorning them with paint- 
ings and statues, which may transmit memorable things 
and persons to posterity, would probably be laughed at 
as a vain affair, of great expense, and little use to the 
public ; and it must be owned we have reduced ourselves 
to such straits that any proposition of expense suiteth ill 
with our present circumstances. But, how proper soever 
this proposal may be for the times, yet it comes so pro- 
perly into a discourse of public spirit that I could not 
but say something of it. And at another time it will not 
seem unreasonable, if we consider that it is no more than 
the wisest nations have done before us, that it would 
spirit up new arts, employ many hands, keep the money 
circulating at home, and, lastly, that it would be a notable 
instance of public spirit, as well as a motive to it \ 

The same noble principle may be also encouraged by 
erecting an Academy of ingenious men, whose employment 
it would be to compile the history of Great Britain, to 
make discourses proper to inspire men with a zeal for 
the public, and celebrate the memory of those who have 
been ornaments to the nation, or done it eminent service. 
Not to mention that this would improve our language, 
and amuse some busy spirits of the age ; which perhaps 
would be no ill policy. 

This is not without example ; for, to say nothing of the 
French Academy, which is prostituted to meaner purposes, 
it hath been the custom of the Venetian Senate to appoint 

1 Cf. Querist J Qu. 70-73, 115, 120, 398-409. 


one of their order to continue the history of the Republic. 
This was introduced in the flourishing state of that people, 
and is still in force. We fall short of other nations in the 
number of good historians, though no nation in Christen- 
dom hath produced greater events, or more worthy to be 
recorded. The Athenian Senate appointed orators to 
commemorate annually those who died in defence of their 
country, which solemnity was performed at their monu- 
ments erected in honour of them by the public ; and the 
panegyrics, composed by Isocrates and Pericles, as well 
as many passages in Tully, inform us with what pleasure 
the ancient orators used to expatiate in praise of their 

Concord and union among ourselves is rather to be 
hoped for as an effect of public spirit than proposed as 
a means to promote it. Candid, generous men, who are 
true lovers of their country, can never be enemies to one 
half of their countrjmien, or carry their resentments so 
far as to ruin the public for the sake of a party. Now 
I have fallen upon the mention of our parties, I shall beg 
leave to insert a remark or two, for the service both of 
Whig and Tory, without entering into their respective 
merits. First, it is impossible for either party to ruin 
the other without involving themselves and their posterity 
in the same ruin. Secondly, it is very feasible for either 
party to get the better of the other if they could first 
get the better of themselves ; and, instead of indulging 
the little womanish passions of obstinacy, resentment, and 
revenge, steadily promote the true interest of their country, 
in those great clear points of piety, industry, sobriety of 
manners, and an honest regard for posterity, which, all 
men of sense agree, are essential to public happiness. 
There would be something so great and good in this con- 
duct as must necessarily overbear all calumny and opposi- 
tion. But that men should act reasonably is rather to be 
wished than hoped. 

I am well aware, that to talk of public spirit, and the 
means of retrieving it, must, to narrow sordid minds, be 
matter of jest and ridicule, how conformable soever it 
be to right reason, and the maxims of antiquity. Though 
one would think the most selfish men might see it was 
their interest to encourage a spirit in others, by which 


they, to be sure, must be gainers. Yet such is the cor- 
ruption and folly of the present age that a public spirit 
is treated like ignorance of the world and want of sense ; 
and all the respect is paid to cunning men, who bend and 
wrest the public interest to their own private ends, that 
in other times hath been thought due to those who were 
generous enough to sacrifice their private interest to that 
of their country. 

Such practices and such maxims as these must neces- 
sarily ruin a state. But if the contrary should prevail, 
we may hope to see men in power prefer the public wealth 
and security to their own, and men of money make free 
gifts, or lend it without interest to their country. This, 
how strange and incredible soever it may seem to us, 
hath been often done in other States. And the natural 
English temper considered, together with the force of 
example, no one can tell how far a proposal for a free gift 
may go among the monied men, when set on foot by the 
legislature, and encouraged by two or three men of figure, 
who have the spirit to do a generous thing, and the under- 
standing to see it is every private man's interest to support 
that of the public. 

If they who have their fortunes in money should make 
a voluntary gift, the public would be eased, and at the 
same time maintain its credit. Nor is a generous love 
of their country the only motive that should induce them 
to this. Common equity requires that all subjects should 
equally share the public burden ; and common sense shews 
that those who are foremost in the danger should not be 
the most backward in contributing to prevent it. 

Before I leave this subject, I cannot but take notice 
of that most infamous practice of Bribery, than which 
nothing can be more opposite to public spirit, since every 
one who takes a bribe plainly owns that he prefers his 
private interest to that of his country. This corruption 
is become a national crime, having infected the lowest 
as well as the highest amongst us, and is so general and 
notorious that, as it cannot be matched in former ages, 
so it is to be hoped it will not be imitated by posterity. 

This calls to mind another guilt, which we possess in 
a very eminent degree ; there being no nation under the 
sun where solemn Perjury is so common, or where there 


are such temptations to it. The making men swear so 
often in their own case, and where they have an interest 
to conceal the truth, hath gradually worn off that awftil 
respect which was once thought due to an appeal to 
Almighty God ; insomuch, that men now-a-days break 
their fast and a custom-house oath with the same peace 
of mind. It is a policy peculiar to us, the obliging men 
to perjure or betray themselves, and hath had no one 
good effect, but many very ill ones. Sure I am that other 
nations, without the hundredth part of our swearing, con- 
trive to do their business at least as well as we do. And 
perhaps our legislature will think it proper to follow 
their example. For, whatever measures are takqn, so 
long as we lie under such a load of guilt as national 
Perjury and national Bribery, it is impossible we can 

This poor nation hath sorely smarted of late, and to 
ease the present smart, a sudden remedy (as is usual in 
such cases) hath been thought of. But we must beware 
not to mistake an anodyne for a cure. Where the vitals 
are touched, and the whole mass of humours vitiated, 
it is not enough to ease the part pained ; we must look 
farther, and apply general correctives ; otherwise the ill 
humour may soon shew itself in some other part. 

The South-sea affair, how sensible soever, is not the 
original evil, or the great source of our misfortunes ; it 
is but the natural effect of those principles which for 
many years have been propagated with great industry. 
And, as a sharp distemper, by reclaiming a man from 
intemperance, may prolong his life, so it is not impossible 
but this public calamity that lies so heavy on the nation 
may prevent its ruin. It would certainly prove the greatest 
of blessings, if it should make all honest men of one 
party ; if it should put religion and virtue in countenance, 
restore a sense of public spirit, and convince men it is 
a dangerous folly to pursue private aims in opposition 
to the good of their country ; if it should turn our thought 
from cozenage and stock-jobbing to industry and frugal 
methods of life ; in fine, if it should revive and inflame 
that native spark of British worth and honour, which hath 
too long lain smothered and oppressed. 


With this view I have, among so many projects for 
remedying the ill state of our affairs in a particular in- 
stance, ventured to publish the foregoing hints, which as 
they have been thrown together from a zeal for the pub- 
lic good, so I heartily wish they may be regarded neither 
more nor less than as they are fitted to promote that end. 

Though it must be owned that little can be hoped if 
we consider the corrupt degenerate age we live in. I know 
it is an old folly to make peevish complaints of the times, 
and charge the common failures of human nature on a 
particular age. One may nevertheless venture to affirm 
that the present hath brought forth new and portentous 
villainies, not to be paralleled in our own or any other 
history. We have been long preparing for some great 
catastrophe. Vice and villainy have by degrees grown 
reputable among us; our infidels have passed for fine 
gentlemen, and our venal traitors for men of sense, who 
knew the world. We have made a jest of public spirit \ 
and cancelled all respect for whatever our laws and re- 
ligion repute sacred. The old English modesty is quite 
worn off, and instead of blushing for our crimes, we are 
ashamed only of piety and virtue. In short, other nations 
have been wicked, but we are the first who have been 
wicked upon principle. 

The truth is, our symptoms are so bad that, notwith- 
standing all the care and vigilance of the legislature, it 
is to be feared the final period of our State approaches. 
Strong constitutions, whether politic or natural, do not 
feel light disorders. But when they are sensibly affected, 
the distemper is for the most part violent and of an ill 
prognostic. Free governments like our own were planted 
by the Goths in most parts of Europe; and, though we 
all know what they are come to, yet we seem disposed 
rather to follow their example than to profit by it. 

Whether it be in the order of things, that civil States 
should have, like natural products, their several periods 
of growth, perfection, and decay ; or whether it be an 
effect, as seems more probable, of human folly that, as 
industry produces wealth, so wealth should produce vice, 
and vice ruin. 

God grant the time be not near when men shall say : 

^ Cf. Maxims concerning Patriotism^ 86. 



'This island was once inhabited by a religious, brave, 
sincere people, of plain uncomipt manners, respecting 
inbred worth rather than titles and appearances, assertors 
of liberty, lovers of their country, jealous of their own 
rights, and unwilling to infringe the rights of others ; 
improvers of learning and useful arts, enemies to luxury, 
tender of other men s lives, and prodigal of their own ; 
inferior in nothing to the old Greeks or Romans, and 
superior to each of those people in the perfections of the 
other. Such were our ancestors during their rise and 
greatness; but they degenerated, grew servile flatterers 
of men in power, adopted Epicurean notions, became venal, 
corrupt, injurious, which drew upon them the hatred of 
God and man, and occasioned their final ruin.' 


I 722- I 733 

z ;2 








* The harvest truly is great, but the labourers are few.* — Luke x. a. 

First published tn 1725 




The Essc^ towards preventing the Ruin cf Great Britain 
shews Bericeleys state of mind in 1721, immediately after 
his return to London from his second residence in Italy. 
It is the lamentation of an ardent social idealist over 
the corrupt civilisation of Britain and the Old World. 
Soon after a social enterprise of romantic benevolence 
presented itself to his imagination. It appears in a letter 
to Lord Percival, dated in March, 1723, to whom he writes 
thus ' : 'It is now about ten months since I have de- 
termined to spend the residue of my days in Bermuda ; 
where I trust in Providence I may be the mean instru- 
ment of great good to mankind. The reformation of 
manners among the En^sh in our Western Plantations, 
and the propagation of the gospel among the American 
savages, are two points of high moment. The natural 
way of doing this is by founding a College or Seminary 
in some convenient part of the West Indies, where the 
English youth of our Plantations may be educated in such 
sort as to supply their churches with pastors of good 
morals and good learning — a thing (God knows) much 

' Percival MSS. 


wanted. In the same Seminary a number of young 
American savages may be educated till they have taken 
the degree of Master of Arts. And being by that time 
well instructed in the Christian religion, practical mathe 
matics, and other liberal arts and sciences, and early 
imbued with public-spirited principles and inclinations, 
they may become the fittest instruments for spreading 
religion, morals, and civil life among their countrymen, 
who can entertain no suspicion or jealousy of men of 
their own blood and language, as they might do of Eng- 
lish missionaries, who can never be well qualified for 
that work.' He proceeds in the same letter to unfold 
this ideal of education for English colonists and American 
Indians, and gives reason for choosing Bermuda as the fittest 
situation for the College ; a region whose idyllic bliss poets 
had sung, and from which Christian civilisation might 
radiate over the Utopia of a New World, with its magnificent 
possibilities in the future history of the human race. 

We can only conjecture the origin in Berkeley's imagina- 
tion of this bright vision. According to his own account 
it had arisen more than ' ten months ' before the date of 
this letter to Lord Percival. That carries us back to the 
beginning of 1722, in his first months at Trinity College 
after long absence in Italy, when his heart was heavy 
on account of the social corruption brought to light afler 
the South Sea disaster. It seems as if despair about the 
Old World had induced him to look to the New for the 
hopeful future of religious civilisation. America filled 
the imagination of one ta whose vision was disclosed a 
spiritually prosperous future for mankind amidst new 

He had returned to Dublin in 1721, afler the long leave 
of absence in Italy granted by Trinity College. Early in 
1722 he was nominated Dean of Dromore. In 1723, Esther 
Vanhomrigh, Swift's 'Vanessa,' died, leaving him unex- 
pectedly heir of £4,000. In 1724 he was promoted to the 

344 editor's preface to the 

Deanery of Londonderry, the best preferment in Ireland. 
All this he valued, not for his own sake, he says, but 
because it added to his influence as the apostle of Chris- 
tian civilisation in America. To realise that dominant 
project, by attracting voluntary contributions, obtaining 
a Charter from the Crown for the proposed College, and 
a grant of money from Parliament, Berkeley went over 
to London in September, 1724, fortified by a letter * from 
Swift, then in Dublin, to Lord Carteret, at Bath, who 
was appointed to succeed the Duke of Grafton as Lord 
Lieutenant of Ireland. Swift thus describes Berkeley's 
previous career and his project: — 

'There is a gentleman of this kingdom just gone for 
England. It is Dr. George Berkeley, Dean of Derry, 
the best preferment among us, being worth £1,100 a year. 
He was a Fellow of the University here ; and going to 
England very young, about thirteen years ago, he became 
the founder of a sect called the Intmaieriah'sis, by the 
force of a very curious book upon that subject. Dr. Smal- 
ridge and many other eminent persons were his proselytes. 
I sent him secretary and chaplain to Sicily with my Lord 
Peterborough ; and upon his Lordship's return, Dr. Berke- 
ley spent above seven years in travelling over most parts of 
Europe ^, but chiefly through every corner of Italy, Sicily, 
and other islands. When he came back to England he 
found so many friends that he was effectually recommended 
to the Duke of Grafton, by whom he was lately made Dean 
of Derry. 

' I am now to mention his errand. He is an absolute 
philosopher with regard to money, titles, and power; and 
for three years past has been struck with a notion of founding 
a University at Bermudas, by a Charter from the Crown. 
He has seduced several of the hopefullest young clergy- 
men and others here, many of them well provided for, 

* Dated September 3, 1724. and extent of his Second Tour on 

'■* This exaggerates the length the Continent. 


and all in the fairest way for preferment ; but in England 
his conquests are greater, and I doubt will spread very 
far this winter. He shewed me a little tract, which he 
designs to publish; and there your Excellency will see 
his whole scheme of a life academico-philosophical, of 
a College founded for Indian scholars and missionaries; 
where he most exorbitantly proposes a whole hundred 
pounds a year for himself, fifty pounds for a Fellow, and 
ten for a Student. His heart will break if his Deanery 
be not taken from him, and left to your Excellency's dis- 
posal. I discouraged him by the coldness of Courts and 
ministers, who will interpret all this as impossible and 
a vision ; but nothing will do. And. therefore I humbly 
entreat your Excellency, either to use such persuasions 
as will keep one of the first men in the kingdom for 
learning and virtue quiet at home, or assist him by your 
credit to compass his romantic design ; which, however, is 
very noble and generous, and directly proper for a great 
person of your excellent education to encourage.' 

For four years after the date of this letter, Berkeley 
lived in London, negotiating and otherwise ardently press- 
ing forward his enterprise. The 'little tract' which he 
carried from Dublin was published in the form of the 
following Proposal^ in 1725, in London, 'printed by 
H. Woodfall, at Elzevir's Head, without Temple Bar.' 

The Proposal was republished in 1752, in Berkeley's 



Although there are several excellent persons of the 
Church of England, whose good intentions and endea- 
vours have not been wanting to propagate the Gospel in 
foreign parts, who have even combined into Societies for 
that very purpose ^ and given great encouragement, not 
only for English missionaries in the West Indies, but also 
for the reformed of other nations, led by their example, to 
propagate Christianity in the East ; it is nevertheless ac- 
knowledged that there is at this day but little sense of reli- 
gion, and a most notorious corruption of manners, in the 
English Colonies settled on the Continent of America, and 
the Islands. It is also acknowledged that the gospel hath 
hitherto made but a very inconsiderable progress among 
the neighbouring Americans, who still continue in much 
the same ignorance and barbarism in which we found 
them above a hundred years ago. 

I shall therefore venture to submit my thoughts, upon 
a point that I have long considered, to better judgments, 
in hopes that any expedient will be favourably hearkened 
to which is proposed for the remedy of these evils. Now, 
in order to effect this, it should seem the natural proper 
method to provide, in the first place, a constant supply of 
worthy clergymen for the English churches in those parts ; 
and, in the second place, a like constant supply of zealous 
missionaries, well fitted for propagating Christianity among 
the savages. 

For, though the surest means to reform the morals, and 
soften the behaviour of men be, to preach to them the 
pure uncomipt doctrine of the gospel, yet it cannot be 
denied that the success of preaching dependeth in good 

* The Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, 
founded in 1701. 


measure on the character and skill of the preacher. 
Forasmuch as mankind are more apt to copy characters 
than to practise precepts, and forasmuch as argument, to 
attain its full strength, doth not less require the life of 
zeal than the weight of reason ; the same doctrine which 
maketh great impression when delivered with decency and 
address loseth very much of its force by passing through 
awkward or unskilful hands. 

Now the clergy sent over to America have proved, too 
many of them, very meanly qualified both in learning and 
morals for the discharge of their oflBce. And indeed little 
can be expected from the example or instruction of those 
who quit their native country on no other motive than that 
they are unable to procure a livelihood in it, which is 
known to be often the case. 

To this may be imputed the small care that hath been 
taken to convert the negroes of our Plantations, who, 
to the infamy of England and scandal of the world, con- 
tinue heathen under Christian masters, and in Christian 
countries. Which could never be, if our planters were 
rightly instructed and made sensible that they dis- 
appointed their own baptism by denying it to those who 
belong to them ; that it would be of advantage to their 
affairs to have slaves who should * obey in all things their 
masters according to the flesh, not with eye-service as 
men-pleasers, but in singleness of heart, as fearing God ; ' 
that gospel liberty consists with temporal servitude ; and 
that their slaves would only become better slaves by being 

And though it be allowed that some of the clergy in our 
Colonies have approved themselves men of merit, it will 
at the same time be allowed that the most zealous and 
able missionary from England must find himself but ill 
qualified for converting the American heathen ; if we 
consider the difference of language, their wild way of 
living, and, above all, the great jealousy and prejudice 
which savage nations have towards foreigners, or innova- 
tions introduced by them. 

These considerations make it evident, that a College or 
Seminary in those parts is very much wanted : and there- 
fore the providing such a Seminary is earnestly proposed 
and recommended to all those who have it in their power 


to contribute to 30 good a work. By this, two ends would 
be obtained : — 

First, the vouth of our En^ish Plantations might be 
themselves fitted for the ministry; and men of merit 
would be then glad to fill the churches of their native 
country, wiiich are now a drain for the very dregs and 
refuse of ours. 

At present, there are, I am told, many churches vacant 
in our Plantations, and many very ill sappU^ ; nor can 
all the vigilance and wisdom of that great prelate \ whose 
peculiar care it is, prevent this, so long as the aforesaid 
churches are suppbed fi7>m England. 

And supplied they must be with such as can be picked 
up in En^and or Ireland, until a Nursery of learning for 
the education of the natives is founded. This indeed 
might provide a constant succession of learned and exem- 
pl^y pastors ; and what effect this might be supposed to 
have on their flocks I need not say. 

Secondly, the children of savage Americans, brought up 
in such a Seminary, and well instructed in religion and 
learning, might make the ablest and properest missionaries 
for spr^ding the gospel among their countrymen; who 
would be less apt to suspect, and readier to embrace a 
doctrine recommended by neighbours or relations, men of 
their own blood and language, than if it were proposed by 
foreigners ; who would not improbably be thought to have 
designs on the liberty or property of their converts. 

The young Americans necessary for this purpose may, 
in the beginning, be procured, either by peaceable methods 
from those savage nations which border on our Colonies, 
and are in friendship with us, or by taking captive the 
children of our enemies. 

It is proposed to admit into the aforesaid Collie only 
such savages as are under ten years of age, before evil 
habits have taken a deep root ; and yet not so early as to 
prevent retaining their mother-tongue, which should be 
preserved by intercourse among themselves. 

It is farther proposed to ground these young Americans 
thoroughly in religion and morality, and to give them 

' The Bishop of London, Dr. Gihson, author of the Codex Juris 
Ecclesiasiici Anglicam ( 1713). 


a good tincture of Other learning; particularly of eloquence, 
history, and practical mathematics; to which it may not 
be improper to add some skill in physic. 

If there were a yearly supply of ten or a dozen such 
missionaries sent abroad into their respective countries, 
after they had received the degree of master of arts in the 
aforesaid College, and holy orders in England (till such 
time as Episcopacy be established in those parts ^), it is 
hardly to be doubted but, in a little time, the world would 
see good and great effects thereof 

For, to any considering man, the employing American 
missionaries for the conversion of America will, of all 
others, appear the most likely method to succeed ; 
especially if care be taken that, during the whole course 
of their education, an eye should be had to their mission ; 
that they should be taught betimes to consider themselves 
as trained up in that sole view, without any other prospect 
of provision or employment ; that a zeal for religion and 
love of their country should be early and constantly 
instilled into their minds, by repeated lectures and ad- 
monitions; that they should not only be incited by the 
common topics of religion and nature, but farther animated 
and inflamed by the great examples in past ages of public 
spirit and virtue, to rescue their countrymen from their 
savage manners to a life of civility and religion. 

If his Majesty would graciously please to grant a 
Charter for a College to be erected in a proper place for 
these uses, it is to be hoped a fund may be soon raised, by 
the contribution of well-disposed persons, sufficient for 
building and endowing the same. For, as the necessary 
expense would be small, so there are men of religion and 
humanity in England, who would be pleased to see any 
design set forward for the glory of God and the good of 

A small expense would suffice to subsist and educate the 
American missionaries in a plain simple manner, such as 
might make it easy for them to return to the coarse and 
poor methods of life in use among their countrymen ; and 

^ Dr. Seabury of Connecticut consecrated in 1784 by Bishops of 
was the first Bishop. He was the Church in Scotland. 


nothing can contribute more to lessen this expense, than 
a judicious choice of the situation where the Seminary is 
to stand. 

Many things ought to be considered in the choice of 
a situation. It should be in a good air ; in a place where 
provisions are cheap and plenty; where an intercourse 
might easily be kept up with all parts of America and the 
Islands ; in a place of security, not exposed to the insults 
of pirates, savages, or other enemies ; where there is no 
great trade, which might tempt the Readers or Fellows of 
the College to become merchants, to the neglect of their 
proper business; where there are neither riches nor luxury 
to divert or lessen their application, or to make them 
uneasy and dissatisfied with a homely frugal subsistence ; 
lastly, where the inhabitants, if such a place may be found, 
are noted for innocence and simplicity of manners. I need 
not say of how great importance this point would be 
towards forming the morals of young students, and what 
mighty influence it must have on the mission. 

It is evident the College long since projected in Bar- 
badoes * would be defective in many of these particulars. 
For, though it may have its use among the inhabitants, 
yet a place of so high trade, so much wealth and luxury, 
and such dissolute morals (not to mention the great price 
and scarcity of provisions) must, at first sight, seem a very 
improper situation for a general Seminary intended for 
the forming missionaries, and educating youth in religion 
and sobriety of manners. The same objections lie against 
the neighbouring islands. 

And, if we consider the accounts given of their avarice 
and licentiousness, their coldness in the practice of religion, 
and their aversion from propagating it (which appears 
in the withholding their slaves from baptism), it is to 
be feared, that the inhabitants in the populous parts of 
our Plantations on the Continent are not much fitter 
than those in the islands above mentioned, to influence or 
assist such a design. And, as to the more remote and 
less-frequented parts, the difficulty of being supplied with 
necessaries, the danger of being exposed to the inroads 

^ By General Codrington, who Propagation of the Gospel, for the 
died in Barbadoes in 1710, leaving foundation of a College there, 
his estates to the Society for the 


of savages, and, above all, the want of intercourse with 
other places, render them improper situations for a 
Seminary of religion and learning. 

It will not be amiss to insert here an observation I re- 
member to have seen in an Abstract of the Proceedings, 
&c., annexed to the Dean of Canterbury's * Sermon before 
the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign 
Parts — that the savage Indians who live on the Continent 
will not suffer their children to learn English or Dutch, 
lest they should be debauched by conversing with their 
European neighbours ; which is a melancholy but strong 
confirmation of the truth of what hath been now advanced. 

A general intercourse and correspondence with all the 
English Colonies, both on the Islands and the Continent, 
and with other parts of America, hath been before laid 
down as a necessary circumstance, the reason whereof is 
very evident. But this circumstance is hardly to be found. 
For, on the Continent, where there are neither inns, nor 
carriages, nor bridges over the rivers, there is no travelling 
by land between distant places. And the English settle- 
ments are reputed to extend along the sea-coast for the 
space of fifteen hundred miles. It is therefore plain there 
can be no convenient communication between them other- 
wise than by sea; no advantage therefore, in this point, 
can be gained by settling on the Continent. 

There is another consideration which equally regards 
the Continent and the Islands, that the general course of 
trade and correspondence lies from all those Colonies 
to Great Britain alone. Whereas, for our present pur- 
pose, it would be necessary to pitch upon a place, if such 
could be found, which maintains a constant intercourse 
with all the other Colonies, and whose commerce lies 
chiefly or altogether (not in Europe, but) in America. 

There is but one spot that I can find to which this cir- 
cumstance agrees; and that is, the Isles of Bermuda, 
otherwise called the Summer Islands^. These, having no 

* Dr. George Stanhope^ Dean of British North America, and about 

Canterbury, preached the annual six hundred miles from the Conti- 

Sermon before the Society, on nent, now associated with the 

February 19, 1714. bright vision of Berkeley, were 

^ These islands, equidistant the dread of sailors. They are 

between the West Indies and called Summer Islands from Sir 



rich commodity or manufacture, such as sugar, tobacco, 
or the like, wherewithal to trade to England, are obliged 
to become carriers for America, as the Dutch are for 
Europe. The Bermudans are excellent shipwrights and 
sailors, and have a great number of very good sloops, 
which are always passing and repassing from all parts of 
America. They drive a constant trade to the islands 
of Jamaica, BaiWdoes, Antigua, &c, with butter, onions, 
cabbages, and other roots and v^etables, which they have 
in great plenty and perfection. They have also some 
sm<dl manufactures of joiner's work and matting, which 
they export to the Plantations on the Continent Hence 
Bermudan sloops are oftener seen in the ports of America 
than in any other. And, indeed, by the best information 
I could get, it spears they are the only people of all 
the British Plantations who hold a general correspondence 
with the rest 

And as the commerce of Bermuda renders it a very fit 
place wherein to erect a Seminary, so likewise doth its 
situation, it being placed between our Plantations on the 
Continent and those in the Isles, so as equally to respect 
both. To which may be added, that it lies in the way 
of vessels passing from America to Great Britain ; all which 
makes it plain that the youth to be educated in a Seminary 
placed in the Summer Islands would have frequent oppor- 
tunities of going thither and corresponding with their 
friends. It must indeed be owned that some will be 
obliged to go a long way to any one place which we sup- 
pose resorted to from all parts of our Plantations ; but if 
we were to look out a spot the nearest approaching to an 

George Summers (or Somen), who 
was wrecked there in 1609. He 
and his comrades were charmed 
by their place of refuge. Bermuda 
became famed for its delightful 
climate. The poet Waller, after 
his condemnation by Paiiiament, 
is said to have passed months in 
1643 >>> Bermuda, which, in his 
BattU of the SutHnur Islands^ he 
has described with enthusiasm, as 
enjoying perpetual spring, and 
offering the most beautiful resi- 
dence in the world. And Andrew 

Marvell, in his poem Bermudas, 
celebrates the 

. . . 'isle so long unknown, 
And yet far kinder than our own/ 
with its grateful shelter, 

' Safe from the storms, and pre- 
lates' rage.' 
Shakespeare, too, as well as 
Waller and Marvell, helps to in- 
vest this romantic region with 
a halo of imagination. See Tent- 
pesij Act i. Scene 2 — * the still- 
vex'd Bermoothes.' 


equal distance from all the rest, I believe it would be found 
to be Bermuda. It remains that we see whether it enjoys 
the other qualities or conditions laid down as well as this. 

The Summer Islands are situated near the latitude of 
thirty-three degrees ; no part of the world enjoys a purer 
air, or a more temperate climate, the great ocean which 
environs them at once moderating the heat of the south 
winds, and the severity of the nortlh-west. Such a latitude 
on the Continent might be thought too hot; but the air 
in Bermuda is perpetually fanned and kept cool by sea- 
breezes, which render the weather the most healthy and 
delightful that could be wished, being (as is afGrmed by 
persons who have long lived there) of one equal tenor 
almost throughout the whole year, like the latter end of 
a fine May ; insomuch that it is resorted to as the Mont- 
pelier of America. 

Nor are these isles (if we may believe the accounts given 
of them) less remarkable for plenty than for health ; there 
being, besides beef, mutton, and fowl, great abundance of 
fruits, and garden-stuff of all kinds in perfection: to this, 
if we add the great plenty and variety of fish which is every 
day taken on their coasts, it would seem, that a Seminary 
could nowhere be supplied with better provisions, or 
cheaper than here. 

About forty years ago, upon cutting down many tall 
cedars that sheltered their orange-trees from the north 
wind (which sometimes blows even there so as to affect 
that delicate plant), great part of their orange plantations 
suffered ; but other cedars are since grown up, and no 
doubt a little industry would again produce as great plenty 
of oranges as ever was there heretofore. I mention this 
because some have inferred from the present scarcity of 
that fruit, for which Bermuda was once so famous, that 
there hath been a change in the soil and climate for the 
worse. But this, as hath been observed, proceeded from 
another cause, which is now in great measure taken away. 

Bermuda is a cluster of small islands, which lie in a 
very narrow compass, containing, in all, not quite twenty 
thousand acres. This group of isles is (to use Mr. Waller's 
expression ') walled round with rocks, which render them 

' * Bermuda, wall'd with rocks, who does not know ? 
That happy island where huge lemons grow, 



inaccessible to pirates or enemies; there being but two 
narrow entrances, both well guarded by forts. It would 
therefore be impossible to find anywhere a more secure 
retreat for students. 

The trade of Bermuda consists only in garden-stuff, 
and some poor manufactures, principally of cedar and the 
palmetto-leaf. Bermuda hats are worn by our ladies: 
they are made of a sort of mat, or (as they call it) platting 
made of the palmetto-leaf, which is the only commodity 
that I can find exported from Bermuda to Great Britain ; 
and as there is no prospect of making a fortune by this 
small trade, so it cannot be supposed to tempt the Fellows 
of the College to engage in it, to the neglect of their 
peculiar business, which might possibly be the case else- 

Such as their trade is, such is their wealth ; the inhabit- 
ants being much poorer than the other Colonies, who do 
not fail to despise them upon that account. But, if they 
have less wealth, they have withal less vice and expensive 
folly than their neighbours. They are represented as 
a contented, plain, innocent sort of people, free from 
avarice and luxury, as well as the other corruptions that 
attend those vices. 

I am also informed that they are more constant attendants 
on Divine service, more kind and respectful to their pastor 
(when they have one), and shew much more humanity to 
their slaves, and charity to one another, than is observed 
among the English in the other Plantations. One reason 
of this may be that condemned criminals, being employed 
in the manufactures of sugar and tobacco, were never 
transported thither. But, whatever be the cause, the facts 
are attested by a clergyman of good credit, who lived 
among them. 

Among a people of this character, and in a situation 
thus circumstantiated, it would seem that a Seminary of 
religion and learning might very fitly be placed. The 
correspondence with other parts of America, the goodness 

And orange-trees, which golden fruit do bear, 
Th' Hesperian garden boasts of none so fair; 
Where shining pearl, coral, and many a pound. 
On the rich shore, of ambergris is found/ 

Waller's Battle of the Summer Islands. 


of the air, the plenty and security of the place, the frugality 
and innocence of the inhabitants, all conspiring to favour 
such a design. Thus much at least is evident, that young 
students would be there less liable to be corrupted in their 
morals; and the governing part would be easier, and 
better contented with a small stipend, and a retired 
academical life, in a corner from whence avarice and 
luxury are excluded, than they can be supposed to be in 
the midst of a full trade and great riches, attended with 
all that high living and parade which our planters affect, 
and which, as well as all fashionable vices, should be far 
removed from the eyes of the young American missionaries, 
who are to lead a life of poverty and self-denial among 
their countrymen. 

After all, it must be acknowledged, that though every- 
thing else should concur with our wishes, yet if a set of 
good Governors and Teachers be wanting, who are ac- 
quainted with the methods of education, and have the zeal 
and ability requisite for carrying on a design of this nature, 
it would certainly come to nothmg. 

An institution of this kind should be set on foot by men 
of prudence, spirit, and zeal, as well as competent learning, 
who should be led to it by other motives than the necessity 
of picking up a maintenance. For, upon this view, what 
man of merit can be supposed to quit his native country, 
and take up with a poor college subsistence in another 
part of the world, where there are so many considerable 
parishes actually void, and so many others ill supplied 
for want of fitting incumbents ? Is it likely that Fellow- 
ships of fifty or sixty pounds a year should tempt abler 
or worthier men than benefices of many times their 
value ? 

And except able and worthy men do first engage in this 
affair, with a resolution to exert themselves in forming 
the manners of the youth, and giving them a proper 
education, it is evident the Mission and the College will 
be but in a very bad way. This inconvenience seems 
the most difficult to provide against, and if not provided 
against, it will be the most likely to obstruct any design 
of this nature. So true it is, that where ignorance or ill 
manners once take place in a Seminary, they are sure 

A a 2 


to be handed down in a succession of illiterate or worth- 
less men. 

But this apprehension, which seems so well grounded, 
that a College in any part of America would either lie 
unprovided, or be worse provided than their churches are, 
hath no place in Bermuda ; there being at this time several 
gentlemen, in all respects very well qualified, and in pos- 
session of good preferments and fair prospects at home, 
who, having seriously considered the great benefits that 
may arise to the Church and to Mankind from such an 
undertaking, are ready to engage in it, and to dedicate 
the remainder of their lives to the instructing the youth 
of America, and prosecuting their own studies, upon a very 
moderate subsistence, in a retirement, so sweet and so 
secure, and every way so well fitted for a place of educa- 
tion and study, as Bermuda. 

Thus much the writer hereof thought himself obliged 
to say of his associates. For himself he can only say that, 
as he values no preferment upon earth so much as that of 
being employed in the execution of this design, so he 
hopes to make up for other defects, by the sincerity of 
his endeavours. 

In Europe, the Protestant religion hath of late years 
considerably lost ground, and America seems the likeliest 
place wherein to make up for what hath been lost in 
Europe, provided the proper methods are taken. Other- 
wise the Spanish missionaries in the south, and the French 
in the north, are making such a progress, as may one day 
spread the religion of Rome, and with it the usual hatred 
to Protestants, throughout all the savage nations of America; 
which would probably end in the utter extirpation of our 
Colonies, on the safety whereof depends so much of the 
nation's wealth, and so considerable a branch of his 
Majesty's revenue. 

But, if this scheme were pursued, it would in all proba- 
bility have much greater influence on the Americans than 
the utmost endeavours of popish emissaries can possibly 
have ; who, from the difference of country, language, and 
interest, must lie under far greater difficulties and dis- 
couragements than those whom we suppose yearly sent 
out from Bermuda to preach among their countrymen. 


It cannot indeed be denied, that the great number of 
poor regulars, inured to hard living, and brought up in an 
implicit obedience to their superiors, hath hitherto given 
the Church of Rome, in regard to her missions, great 
advantage over the reformed churches. But, from what 
hath been said, it is, I think, evident, that this ad- 
vantage may be overbalanced by our employing American 

Nor is the honour of the crown, nation, and church of 
England, unconcerned in this scheme ; which, it is to be 
hoped, will remove the reproach we have so long lain 
under, that we fall as far short of our neighbours of the 
Romish communion in zeal for propagating religion, as 
we surpass them in the soundness and purity of it. And 
at the same time that the doing what may be so easily 
done takes away our reproach, it will cast no small lustre 
on his Majesty's reign, and derive a blessing from Heaven 
on his administration, and those who live under the 
influence thereof. 

Men of narrow minds have a peculiar talent at objection, 
being never at a loss for something to say against whatso- 
ever is not of their own proposing. And perhaps it will be 
said, in opposition to this proposal, that if we thought 
ourselves capable of gaining converts to the Church, we 
ought to begin with infidels, papists, and dissenters of all 
denominations, at home, and to make proselytes of these 
before we think of foreigners; and that therefore our 
scheme is against duty. And, farther, that, considering 
the great opposition which is found on the part of those 
who differ from us at home, no success can be expected 
among savages abroad; and that therefore it is against 
reason and experience. 

In answer to this, I say, that religion like light is im- 
parted without being diminished. That whatever is done 
abroad can be no hindrance or let to the conversion of 
infidels or others at home. That those who engage in 
this affair imagine they will not be missed, where there 
is no want of schools or clergy; but that they may be 
of singular service in countries but thinly supplied with 
either, or altogether deprived of both : that our Colonies 
being of the same blood, language, and religion, with 


ourselves, are in effect our countrymen. But that Christian 
charity, not being limited by those regards, doth extend 
to all mankind. And this may serve for an answer to the 
first point, that our design is against duty. 

To the second point I answer, that ignorance is not 
so incurable as error ; that you must pull down as well as 
build, erase as well as imprint, in order to make proselytes 
at home : whereas, the savage Americans, if they are in 
a state purely natural, and unimproved by education, they 
are also unincumbered with all that rubbish of super- 
stition and prejudice, which is the effect of a wrong one. 
As they are less instructed, they are withal less conceited, 
and more teachable. And not being violently attached 
to any false system of their own, are so much the fitter 
to receive that which is true. Hence it is evident that 
success abroad ought not to be measured by that which 
we observe at home, and that the inference which was 
made from the difficult}' of the one to the impossibility 
of the other, is altogether groundless. 

It hath more the appearance of reason to object (what 
will possibly be objected by some) that this scheme hath 
been already tried to no purpose, several Indians having 
returned to their savage manners after they had been 
taught to write and read, and instructed in the Christian 
religion ; a clear proof that their natural stupidity is not 
to be overcome by education. 

In answer to this, I say, that the scheme now proposed 
hath never been tried, forasmuch as a thorough education 
in religion and morality, in Divine and human learning, 
doth not appear to have been ever given to any savage 
American : that much is to be hoped from a man ripe in 
years, and well grounded in religion and useful know- 
ledge, while little or nothing can be expected from a youth 
but slightly instructed in the elements of either : that from 
the miscarriage or gross stupidity of some, a general 
incapacity of all Americans cannot be fairly inferred : that 
they shew as much natural sense as other uncultivated 
nations: that the empires of Mexico and Peru were 
evident proofs of their capacity, in which there appeared 
a relish of politics and a degree of art and politeness, 
which no European people were ever known to have 
arrived at without the use of letters or of iron, and 


which some perhaps have fallen short of with both those 

To what hath been said, it may not be improper to add, 
that young Americans, educated in an island at some 
distance from their own country, will more easily be kept 
under discipline till they have attained a complete education, 
than on the continent ; where they might find opportunities 
of running away to their countrymen, and returning to 
their brutal customs, before they were thoroughly imbued 
with good principles and habits. 

It must, nevertheless, be acknowledged a difficult attempt 
to plant religion among the Americans, so long as they 
continue their wild and roving life. He who is obliged to 
hunt for his daily food, will have little curiosity or leisure 
to receive instruction. It would seem therefore the right 
way, to introduce religion and civil life at the same time 
into that part of the world : either attempt will assist and 
promote the other. Those therefore of the young savages, 
who upon trial are found less likely to improve by 
academical studies, may be taught agriculture, or the most 
necessary trades. And when husbandmen, weavers, car- 
penters, and the like, have planted those useful arts among 
their savage countrymen, and taught them to live in settled 
habitations, to canton out their land and till it, to provide 
vegetable food of all kinds, to preserve flocks and herds 
of cattle, to make convenient houses, and to clothe them- 
selves decently : this will assist the spreading the Gospel 
among them ; this will dispose them to social virtues, and 
enable them to see and to feel the advantages of a religious 
and civil education. 

And that this view of propagating the Gospel and civil 
life among the savage nations of America, was a principal 
motive which induced the crown to send the first English 
Colonies thither, doth appear from the Charter* granted 
by King James I to the adventurers in Virginia. (See 
Purchases Pilgrims, vol. iv. bk. i. c. 9.) And it is now but 

* The Charter was granted by darkness and miserable ignorance 

the King, because ^ so noble a of the true knowledge and worship 

work may, by the Providence of of God, and may in time bring the 

Almighty God, hereafter tend to infidels and savages (living in those 

the glory of his Divine Majesty, parts) to human civility, and to a 

in propagating of Christian reli- settled and quiet government/ 
gion to such people as yet live in 


just (what might then seem charitable), that these poor 
creatures should receive some advantage with respect to 
their spiritual interests from those who have so much 
improved their temporal by settling among them. 

It is most true, notwithstanding our present corruptions, 
that there are to be found in no country under the sun 
men of better inclinations, or greater abilities for doing 
good, than in England. But it is as true that success, in 
many cases, depends not upon zeal, industry, wealth, 
learning, or the like faculties, so much as on the method 
wherein these are applied. We often see a small pro- 
portion of labour and expense in one way bring that about, 
which in others a much greater share of both could never 
effect. It hath been my endeavour to discover this way 
or method in the present case. What hath been done, 
I submit to the judgment of all good and reasonable men ; 
who, I am persuaded, will never reject or discourage a 
proposal of this nature, on the score of slight objections, 
surmises, or difficulties, and thereby render themselves 
chargeable with the having prevented those good effects 
which mi^ht otherwise have been produced by it. 

For it IS, after all, possible, that unforeseen difficulties 
may arise in the prosecution of this design ; many things 
may retard, and many things may threaten to obstruct it. 
But there is hardly any enterprise or scheme whatsoever, 
for the public good, m which difficulties are not often 
shewing themselves, and as often overcome by the bless- 
ing of God upon the prudence and resolution of the un- 
dertakers; though, for aught that appears, the present 
scheme is as likely to succeed, and attended with as few 
difficulties, as any of this kind can possibly be. 

For, to any man who considers the Divine power of 
religion, the innate force of reason and virtue, and the 
mighty effects often wrought by the constant regular 
operations even of a weak and small cause ; it will seem 
natural and reasonable to suppose, that rivulets perpetually 
issuing forth from a fountain or reservoir of learning and 
religion, and streaming through all parts of America, 
must in due time have a great effect, in purging away the 
ill manners and irreligion of our Colonies, as well as 
the blindness and barbarity of the nations round them : 


especially if the reservoir be in a clean and private place, 
where its waters, out of the way of anything that may 
corrupt them, remain clear and pure ; otherwise they are 
more likely to pollute than purify the places through 
which they flow. 

The greatness of a benefaction is rather in proportion 
to the number and want of the receivers than to the 
liberality of the giver. A wise and good man would there- 
fore be frugal in the management of his charity : that is, 
contrive it so that it might extend to the greatest wants 
of the greatest number of his fellow creatures. Now the 
greatest wants are spiritual wants, and by all accounts 
these are nowhere greater than in our Western Plantations, 
in many parts whereof Divine service is never performed 
for want of clergymen; in others, after such a manner 
and by such hands as scandalise even the worst of their 
own parishioners ; where many English, instead of gaining 
converts, are themselves degenerated into heathens, being 
members of no church, without morals, without faith, 
without baptism. There can be, therefore, in no part of 
the Christian world a greater want of spiritual things than 
in our Plantations. 

And, on the other hand, no part of the Gentile world 
are so inhuman and barbarous as the savage Americans, 
whose chief employment and delight consisting in cruelty 
and revenge; their lives must of all others be most 
opposite, as well to the light of nature as to the spirit 
of the Gospel. Now, to reclaim these poor wretches, to 
prevent the many torments and cruel deaths which they 
daily inflict on each other, to contribute in any sort to 
put a stop to the numberless horrid crimes which they 
commit without remorse, and instead thereof to introduce 
the practice of virtue and piety, must surely be a work in 
the highest degree becoming every sincere and charitable 

Those who wish well to religion and mankind will need 
no other motive to forward an undertaking calculated for 
the service of both. I shall, nevertheless, beg leave to 
observe, that whoever would be glad to cover a multi- 
tude of sins by an extensive and well-judged charity, or 
whoever, from an excellent and godlike temper of mind, 
seeks opportunities of doing good in his generation, will be 




pleased to meet with a scheme that so peculiarly puts it 
in his power, with small trouble or expense, to procure 
a great and lasting benefit to the world. 

Ten pounds a year would (if I mistake not) be sufficient 
to defray the expense of a young American in the College 
of Bermuda, as to diet, lodging, clothes, books, and 
education : and if so, the interest of two hundred pounds 
may be a perpetual fund for maintaining one missionary 
at the College for ever ; and in this succession many, it is 
to be hoped, may become powerful instruments for con- 
verting to Christianity and civil life whole nations who 
now ' sit in darkness and the shadow of death,' and whose 
cruel brutal manners are a disgrace to human nature. 

A benefaction of this kind seems to enlarge the very 
being of a man, extending it to distant places and to future 
times ; inasmuch as unseen countries and after ages may 
feel the effects of his bounty, while he himself reaps the 
reward in the blessed society of all those, who, having 
turned 'many to righteousness, shine as the stars for 
ever and ever.' 

[PS. ^ Since the foregoing Proposal was first made 
public, his Majesty hath been graciously pleased to grant 
a Charter^ for erecting a College, by the name of St. Paul's 
College in Bermuda, for the uses above mentioned. Which 
College is to contain a President and nine Fellows. The 
first President appointed by charter is George Berkeley, 
D.D., and Dean of Derry. The three Fellows named in 
the charter are William Thompson, Jonathan Rogers, and 
James King, Masters of Arts and Fellows of Trinity 
College near Dublin ^ The nomination of a President is 
reserved to the Crown. The election of Fellows is vested 
in the President and the majority of the Fellows ; as is 

* This PS. was added in 1725, 
in the later issues of the Proposal y 
and is contained in the reprint in 
the Miscellany. 

* The Charter was granted in 
1725. The difficulties and disap- 
pointments which Berkeley after- 
wards encountered, and the spirit 
in which he met them, appear in 

his letters to Thomas Prior in that 
and the three following years. 
See my Life and Correspondence of 
Berkeley, pp. 110-50. 

' Thompson, Rogers, and King 
had been elected Fellows of 
Trinity ; the first in 17 13, the 
second in 17 16, and the third in 



likewise the government of the Society. The Lord Bishop 
of London for the time being is appointed Visitor; and 
such of his Majesty's principal Secretaries of State for the 
time being as hath America in his province is appointed 
Chancellor of the said College. The President and Fellows 
have the power of making Statutes, to be approved by the 
Visitor : they have also the power of conferring Degrees 
in all Faculties. They are obliged to maintain and educate 
Indian Scholars at the rate of ten pound per annum for 
each. They are obliged to transmit annual accounts of 
the state of the College, number of studehts, their pro- 
gress, &c. to the Chancellor and Visitor. The aforesaid 
President and Fellows are licensed to hold their prefer- 
ments in these Kingdoms till one year and a half be 
expired after their arrival in Bermuda. This Society is 
incorporated with the usual clauses, hath power to receive 
benefactions, purchase lands, keep a common seal, &c. 
Lastly, all in office under his Majesty are required to 
be aiding and assisting to the protection and preservation 

^ The following paragraph in 
the 1725 edition is omitted in 
the reprint of 1752 : — *As this 
College is proposed to be built 
and endowed by charitable con- 
tributions and subscriptions, all 
well-disposed persons, whether of 
the laity or the clergy, are desired 
to assist, as opportunity shall oifer, 
in forwarding and collecting the 
same without loss of time ; to the 
end that the President and Fellows 
may be able to set out for Bermuda 
in next Spring ; which is proposed 
in case provision can be made 
by that time of ^60 per annum 
for each. And it is hoped that 
the charity and zeal of sincere 
Christians will not suifer a design 
of this nature to be disappointed 
for want of necessary provision. 
The contributions and subscrip- 
tions aforesaid may be deposited 
in the hands of any of the persons 
hereafter named : — John Arbuth- 
not, M.D., in Coke Street; Rev. 

Martin Benson, Archdeacon of 
Berkshire and Prebendary of Dur- 
ham, in Albemarle Street ; Francis 
Child, Esq., Banker in Fleet Street, 
and Alderman of the City of 
London ; Rev. Dr. Cobden, chap- 
lain to the Lord Bishop of London, 
at Fulham ; Sir Clement Cotterel, 
Bart., in Dover Street ; Sir Thomas 
Crosse, Kt., in Westminster; Sir 
Daniel Dolins, Kt., at Hackney; 
Thomas Green, Esq., in West- 
minster ; Rev. Mr. Hargrave, chap- 
lain to the Duke of Newcastle and 
Prebendary of Westminster ; Ed- 
ward Harley, Esq., auditor of 
Imposts in Lincoln's Inn ; Benj. 
and Henry Hoare, Esqs., Bankers 
in Fleet Street ; Archibald Hutche- 
son in James Street, near Golden 
Square ; Rev. Dr. King, Master of 
the Charterhouse, and first chap- 
lain to the Lord Chancellor; Rev. 
Dr. Lisle, Rector of Bow, and 
chaplain to the Archbishop of 
Canterbury ; Rev. Dr. Lupton, 


Prebendary of Durham, Preacher at 
Lincoln^s Inn ; Rev. Dr. Marshall , 
Rector of Foster Lane, and Pre- 
bendary of Windsor; Rev. Dr. 
Mayo, Treasurer to the S. P. C. K., 
at St Thomas's Hospital, in South- 
wark ; Rev. Dr. Moss, Dean of 
Ely, Preacher at Gray's Inn ; 
Rev. Dr. Pelling, Rector of St 
Ann's, Soho; Rev. Dr. Pierce, 
Vicar of St Martin's - in - the - 
Fields; Hon. Augustus Schutz, 
Master of the Wardrobe; Rev. 
Dr. Sheriock, Dean of Chichester, 
and Master of the Temple ; Sir 
William Wentworth, Bart» at 
Clarges Street The money re- 
ceived by these gentlemen is to be 
laid out in purchasing lands or 
perpetual annuities for the endow- 
ment of the College, and in build- 

ing and providing necessaries for 
the same, by order, or with the 
approbation of His Grace the Lord 
Archbishop of Canterbury, the 
Right Hon. Peter, Lord King, 
High Chancellor of Great Britain, 
His Grace the Duke of Newcastle 
(, Secretary of State for the Planta- 
tions in America), and the Right 
Rev. Lord Bishop of London, who 
have been pleased to accept the 
o£Bce of Trustees or Overseers of 
so useful a Charity. N.B. Till 
such time as the contributions and 
subscriptions amount to a sum 
su£Bcient for providing five persons 
with the above-mentioned salaries 
of £60 each per annum, the Sub- 
scribers shall not be desired to 
pay in their money.' 







The Muse, disgusted at an age and clime 

Barren of every glorious theme, 
In distant lands now waits a better time. 

Producing subjects worthy fame : 

In happy climes, where from the genial sun 
And virgin earth such scenes ensue, 

The force of art by nature seems outdone. 
And fancied beauties by the true : 

In happy climes, the seat of innocence, 
Where nature guides and virtue rules, 

Where men shall not impose for truth and sense 
The pedantry of courts and schools : 

* Published in the Miscellany in 
1752. The time at which they 
were written has been disputed. 
In the Rhode Island Historical 
Collections, HI. 36, it is said that 
they were composed when Berke- 
ley lived there, in 1729-31. 

But on Feb. 10, 1726, Berkeley 
writes from London to Lord 
Percival : * You have annexed a 
poem wrote by a friend of mine 
with a view to the [Bermuda] 
Scheme. Your lordship is desired 
to shew it to none but of your 
family, and allow no copy to 
be taken of it.' ' America ; or the 

Muse's Refuge : A Prophecy in Six 

The opening verse of the "an- 
nexed poem " reads thus : — 
The Muse, oifended at the age, 
these climes 
Where nought she found fit 
to rehearse, 
Waits now in distant lands for 
better times, 
Producing subjects worthy 
The other verses follow as above. 
This is conclusive as to the date 
of composition. 


There shall be sung another golden age, 

The rise of empire and of arts, 
The good and great inspiring epic rage, 

The wisest heads and noblest hearts. 

Not such as Europe breeds in her decay; 

Such as she bred when fresh and young. 
When heavenly flame did animate her clay, 

By future poets shall be sung. 

Westward the course of empire takes its way; 

The four first Acts already past, 
A fifth shall close the Drama with the day ; 

Time's noblest offspring is the last. 




IN 1729-31 

First published in 187 1 




Soon after Berkeley and his friends had landed at 
Newport, in January, 1729, he moved to a sequestered 
spot in the interior of the island, where he bought a farm, 
and built a house, which he named Whitehall, in loyal 
memory of the palace in London. Whitehall is about 
three miles from Newport, the capital of the little island in 
which for nearly three years Berkeley waited in vain for 
the fulfilment of Walpole's promise, and the expected 
grant of money for the Bermuda College. On the first 
Sunday after his arrival in the island, he preached at 
Newport, in Trinity Church, for ever associated with his 
mission of romantic philanthropy. The following rough 
Notes of some of his Sermons in America are among the 
MSS. which descended to the late Archdeacon Rose. 
They were delivered in Newport, and occasionally in the 
surrounding country of Narragansett, in the churches of 
the missionaries with whom Berkeley had friendly inter- 
course during his studious life in Rhode Island. 

The Notes of Sermons suggest not a little that is 
characteristic of Berkeley, in their delicate criticism of 
New England life at the time ; its often petty sectarianism 
and puritanic rigidity in minor morals ; its vices of a sort 
apt to beset a grave and temperate people; detraction, 
which would not steal sixpence, but would rob a neighbour 
of his reputation ; without relish for wine, yet with itch- 
ing ears for scandal ; apt to judge, but without sufficient 



inquiry ; readiness to report evil of others ; pride and ill- 
nature, two vices especially rebuked by Christ ; malignity 
of spirit, eating like an ulcer in the nobler parts, age 
which cures sensual vices, yet leaving this to grow with 
age; imposing on others and even on themselves as re- 
ligion, what really proceeds from ill-will to men ; religion 
which moves to love, made the occasion of hatred ; cir- 
cumstances or accidents in religion valued more than its 
essence; with great realities presented to our view, yet 
indisposed to overlook petty differences, and to see in 
God the common Father of men ; quarrelling about small 
things in which men must differ, instead of practising large 
virtues about which they ought to be agreed. Such was 
the spirit of Berkeley, and this the form of his social 
ethic, in a community of 'many sorts and subdivisions 
of sects, four sorts of Anabaptists, besides Presbyterians, 
Quakers, Independents, and many of no profession at 
all.* ' They were all agreed in one point,' he says, ' that 
the Church of England is the second best ; ' and they all 
came to regard him with respect and love. 'All sects/ we 
are told, ' rushed to hear him, and the Quakers with their 
broad-brimmed hats came and stood in the aisles.* 

The organ which Berkeley presented to the church in 
Newport is still standing, with an inscription on the 
gallery in front, which expresses the appreciation with 
which the gift was received. His house at Whitehall 
was a place of meeting for the missionaries in the sur- 
rounding country — Johnson, Honeyman, Macsparran, 
Cutler, and others— sent by the English Society for the 
Propagation of the Gospel. They were his occasional 
guests, and we are told that meetings were held, at which, 
among other advice, Berkeley emphatically urged the duty 
of conciliating the affection of the community, especially 
the Nonconformists. 





MAY II, 1729. 

Luke xvi. i6. 

The Law and the Prophets were untU John : since that time the kingdom of 

God is preached, 

I Cor. I. ai. 

For after that in the zvisdom of God the world by wisdom knew not Godj tt 
pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe. 


1. Body and soul : provision for the former in nourish- 
ment, defence, comfort. 

2. Like provision for wellbeing of the soul: from the 
goodness and wisdom of God ; from the excellency of the 
soul ; from our natural appetite of happiness eternal ; 
from the text. 

3. Mean and progress of Providence herein. Wisdom 
or law of God twofold, nature and revelation. 


1. Light of nature sheweth the being of a God. His \ 
worship inward by meditation and imitation ; outward by 
prayer and praise; also b y perfo rming His will^which 
known from conscience'and^ inwMdTeeljng. 

2. Ureat men under natural religion. Authority of re- 
vealed religion depends upon it, as to the veracity of God, 
and nature of things revealed. 

B b 2 


3. Being of God : distinction of moral good and evil ; 
rewards and punishments ; foundations, snbstancei life of 
all religion ; and first to be considered. 

4. Vice, indolence, vanity obstructed n. [natural] re- 
ligion. Some wise men, but wanted authority. Ignorance, 
brutality, idolatry of the heathen. 

5. Revelation : i. to particulars, Noah, Abraham, Job ; 
2. to the Jewish nation. 


1. Things at the worst; God exerts, singles out a 
despised people without law, leader, or country; asserts 
them by force and miracles ; conducts them ; gives them a 
law ; makes them His peculiar people ; entrusts them with 
the truth. 

2. Jewish law provides against idolatry and corruption 
of manners; natural religion comprised in the decalogue; 
one God to be worshipped without image basis of the 

3. After the golden calf rites instituted ; to prevent 
idolatry; to keep from mixing; to typifie; to insinuate 
mercy; and for other reasons unknown. 

4. Jewish law not designed to be perfect ; nor for the 
whole world, nor to last for ever. 

5. Stress on the moral part; rites, &c. spoken slight- 
ingly of, Ps. 1. I ; Isaiah i. 11; Jerem. vi. 20; Hosea vi. 6; 
Micah vi. 6. 

6. Pharisees preferred rites to weightier matters ; Sad- 
ducees denied angels, spirits, and life to come ; general 
expectation of the Jews. 

7. Revelation : i. to a family ; 2. to a nation ; 3. to the 
whole world. 


1. Messiah typified : family, time, place, character fore- 
told; introduced by angels, apparitions, voices from heaven, 
inspirations ; attended by miracles ; sight, motion, even 
life bestowed on the dead. 

2. Worship in spirit and in truth : perfect morals ; 
divine sanction reaching to all men, which wanting in the 
h[eathen] wisdom : in the former, i. e. morals exceeds 
Judaism [as having] a clearer view of future things; rites 
vanish like shadows. 


3. Not only outward observance, but inward sanctity; 
contempt of the world, and life itself. 

4. Peace ; charity ; benevolence ; all honest and orderly 
behaviour ; love of God ; purity of mind. 

5. Having opened heaven and the sources of eternal 
life, Christ inflames us with the hoped immortality; 
assimilation to the Deity ; perfect as our Father in heaven 
is perfect. 

6. Exhortation helps ; encouragements ; rewards ; pun- 

7. Means of reconciliation ; Jewish nation and Chris- 
tian ; God of pardon, grace. 

8. Christ crucified ; the leader, way, life, truth ; hath 
all power in heaven and earth ; proved by miracles ; 
raising others and Himself; sent us the Holy Ghost. 


Rom. VIII. 13. 

If ye live after the flesh, ye shall die : but if ye through the Spirit do mortify 

the deeds of the body, ye shall live, 

1. Animal and rational; brute and angel; senses, 
appetites, passions — their ends and uses ; guilt, why not 
in beasts. 

Opposition, war ; Rom. viii. 6, Gal. v. 17 ; lapsed state. 

Grace, spirit, new man, old man ; Eph. iv. 22 ; danger 
from not subduing the carnal brutal animal part or flesh ; 
works of the flesh, what ; Gal. v. 19. 

2. Fasting conducive to subdue the flesh, shewn from 
natural causes; 2 Cor. iv. 16; shewn from effects in 
describing life spiritual and lives of carnal men. 

Fortune, reputation, health, pleasure ; public evils from 
carnal men. 

3. Examples : Moses' fast in the mount forty days and 
nights fitted him to receive the law from God by speech of 
the Holy One ; Elijah supported by one cake and cruse of 
water, in strength whereof he lived forty days and forty 


nights, and after saw God in Horeb; Dan. i. 17, 'God 
gave them knowledge and skill in all learning and 
wisdom; and Daniel had understanding in all visions 
and dreams.' 

4. Instance of mercy to fasters, as in Niniveh ; of indig- 
nation for the contrary, as in the Israelites who longed 
after the fleshpots in Ejgypt. 

5. Examples out of the New Testament : St. John 
Baptist and Christ Himself. 

6. Precepts in New Testament : * This kind goeth not/ 
&c. ; ' When ye fast/ &c., Matti vi. 16 ; fasts at certain 

7. What sort a Christian fast should be : not to destroy 
health, not for ostentation, not in form, but from degree as 
well as kind ; not to merit, much less to establish a bank of 
merits ; habitual temperance ; fast from all sin ; curb lust, 
tongue, anger, every passion, each whereof inebriates and 
obfuscates no less than drink or meat ; cut off right hand, 
pluck out, &c. 

8. Recapitulation : 3 motives, viz. — I. Temple of God, 
I Cor. iii. 16. II. Race-horse, 'so strive that ye may 
obtain,' i Cor. ix. 24 ; crown, things temporal with things 
eternal compared. III. Wrestle with principalities, &c. ; 
Christian armour, Eph. vi. 11. 



IN JULY, 1729. 

Rom. XIV. 17. 

For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteousness, peace, and 

joy in the Holy Ghost, 


1. Context : Meat and drink imply all rites and cere- 

2. Division into essentials and circumstantials in re- 

3. Circumstantials of less value, (i) from the nature of 


things ; (2) from their being left undefined ; (3) from the 
concession of our Church, which is foully misrepresented. 
4. Duty in these matters, (i) because of decency and 
edification ; (2) because of lawful authority ; (3) because of 
peace and union. 


1. Worship in spirit and truth, righteousness in deed, 
in word, in thought; not limited to buying and selling 
(Rom. xiii. 7). 

2. Easier understood than practised ; appeal to con- 

3. Christ's summary rule — 'all things whatsoever ye 
would that men should do to you, do ye even so [to] 
them; for this is the law and the prophets.* 

4. Reasons for practice : from equity (Mai. ii. 10) ; the 
knave may triumph, but, &c. (Ezek. xxii. i). 


1. Christian peace twofold, (i) peace of mind inward ; 
(2) outward peace, i. e. charity and union with other men 
(Phil. ii. I, 2; I Cor. i. 10; Rom. xv. i). 

2. The sum of religion : the distinguishing badge of 

3. Sad that religion which requires us to love should 
become the cause of our hating one another. But it is not 
religion, it is, &c. 

4. Were men modest, were men charitable, were men 
sincere. Objection of lukewarmness. 

5. Discern between persons and opinions, proportion 
our zeal to the merit of things. 

6. Elias-like zeal not the spirit of Christians. Charity 
described (i Cor. xiii), 


1. Joy in the Holy Spirit not sullen, sour, morose, joy- 
less, but rejoicing. 

2. Not with insolent, tumultuous, profane joy, but calm, 
serene, perpetual. Sinners, infidels, &c. have cause to 
be sad. 

3. Causes of joy; protection of God (Ps. x), forgiveness 


of sin (Ps. ciiL 2, 3, g), aid of the Holy Spirit, adoption, 
inheritance in the heavens. 

4. Since we have so great things in view, let us over- 
look petty differences ; let us look up to God our common 
Father; let us bear one another's infirmities; instead of 
quarrelling about those things wherein we differ, let us 
practise those things wherein we agree. 

(i) The Lord is my light and my salvation, &c 

(2) Be at peace among yourselves, &c. 

(3) The way of the wicked is as darkness ; they know 
not at what, &c. 

(4) The hope of the righteous^ &c 


I Tin. Ill, 16. 

Without controversy great is the tnystety of godliness ; God was manifest in 


St. John i. 14. 
The Word mas made flesh, and dwelt among lis. 


The divinity of our Saviour a fundamental article of the 
Christian faith. We believe in Him, pray to Him, depend 
upon Him here and hereafter. Omniscience, &c. Denied 
of late years. Mystery what. 

State clear up, shew the proofs, answer objections, con- 
sider use and importance of the doctrine. 


Concerning the soul and body of Christ there is no con- 
troversy, but about the personal union of the divinity with 
the manhood. 

Some sort of union with the Godhead in prophets, 
apostles, all true Christians, all men ; but with men, 
Christians, inspired persons, Christ in different degrees. 


The latter also in kind contradistinct as personal. This 
explained, and shewn not repugnant to natural reason. 


Shewn to be in fact from express words in Scripture 
terming Christ God : [' ' The Word was God/ John i. i ; 
' My Lord and my God/ said Thomas to the Saviour.] 
From attributions of omnipotence : [' By Him all things 
consist/ Col. i. 17; 'Upholding all things by the word 
of His power/ Heb. i. 3; 'Whatsoever things the Father 
doth, these also doeth the Son likewise,' John v. 19, 21.] 
Omnipresence : [John xiv. 23, ' Christ saith if a man love 
Him that the Father and He will come,' &c. ; Matthew xviii. 
20 ; xxviii. 20.] Omniscience : [' Now are we sure that 
Thou knowest all things,' John xvi. 30 ; xxi. 17.] 

From the history and circumstances of His birth, life, 
and resurrection, prophecies, miracles, apparition of angels. 
From His works: [Pardoning sins, giving grace, sending 
the Holy Spirit, judging the world, distributing rewards 
and punishments, dooming to final perdition, or crowning 
with life and immortality.] From the worship paid to Him : 
' All men are commanded to honour the Son even as they 
honour the Father,' John v. 23. [Baptism : ' In the name 
of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.' 
Apostles' benediction : ' The grace of our Lord,' &c. 
Doxology. St. Peter ascribes to Him ' praise and dominion 
for ever and ever;' and again, 'to Him be glory,' &c. ; 
'through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and 
ever,' Heb. xiii. 21 ; and in the Apocal. v. 13, ' and every 
creature which is in heaven,' &c.J 


Objection from Scripture : [' The Son can do nothing of 
Himself,' &c., John v. 13; 'I seek not Mine own will, but 
the will of the Father who hath sent Me,' ib. ; ' 1 have not 
spoken of Myself, but the Father who hath sent Me,' &c., 
John xii. 49; 'to sit on My right hand is not Mine to 
give,' &c.. Matt. xx. 23 ; 'of that hour knoweth no man, not 
the angels, nor the Son, but the Father,' Mark xiii. 32. He 

' Passages within brackets added on the opposite side of the MS. 


prayeth, is afflicted, tempted, distressed.] Answered by 
ackjiowledging Christ to be man as well as God, whence 
contradictorys are predicated of His different natures. 


Objection from reason, fh>m the meanness of His figure 
and appearance. Answered by shewing wherein true 
greatness and glory consists— more in miracles and sanc- 
tity, infinitely more than in pomp and worldly grandeur. 


Objection second from reason, Le. firom substance, 
personality, &c. 

[The seed of the woman shall break the serpent's head 
in the dales of Adam. To Abraham : ' In thee shall all 
the jfamilies of the earth be blessed.' By Jacob : ' Shiloh 
to whom the gathering of the people.' Balaam : ' There 
shall come a star out of Jacob, and a sceptre shall rise 
out of Israel.' Types : paschal lamb, all sacrifices. From 
Samuel to Malachi : Luke x. 24 — ' Many prophets have 
desired,' &c. 

Hence motives to obedience, faith, hope, joy. [This 
doctrine or mystery ; what not intended to produce ; what 
it hath accidentally produced. Simile of the sun and weak 
eyes ; mind dim'd with folly or inflamed with pride ; 
rescue from despair ; a hopeless case cutts of all endeavour, 
&c. Favour extended ; door opened; citizens; endeavours 



HeB. XII. 22, 23. 

But ye are come unto mount Sion^ and unto the city of the living God^ the 
heavenly Jerusalem^ and to an innumerable company of angels, to the 
general assfmbly and church of the firstborn, which are written in heaven, 
and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect. 

I. Body, city, kingdom; Church formed in the original 
creation ol intelligent beings, which necessarily formed for 


society with one another and orderly submission to the 
will of God : defection of angels and men : our business 
to recover this pristine state : ist, Church on earth founded 
on the light of nature and traditions from Noah ; 2nd, 
Church of the Jews abolishing idolatry, containing the 
principles of moral duty with shadows and figures of things 
to come; Segullah' always subsisting; 3rd, Church the 

2. Jewish the religion of legal justice. Christian of 
saving grace ; ^race from the beginning ^ ; method of ad- 
mission into this society; ['both Jews and Gentiles are 
fellow citizens with the saints, and of the household of God,' 
Ephes. ii. 19 ; the Church of the living God ; the pillar 
and ground of truth ; built by Christ upon a rock ; against 
which the gates of hell shall never prevail ;] ' names 
written in heaven/ Luke x. 20 ; blotted out of the book of 
life ; faith and repentance inward, baptism outward ; by 
nature unholy, by regeneration holy; in ist state lust, 
appetite, sense, passion, in a word the flesh ; in 2nd new 
life of the spirit, purifying, sanctifying, ennobling our 

3. Requisites to continuance in the Church of Christ : 
inward, the love of God and our neighbour, which compre- 
hend the sum of all duty, the bond and cement ; outward, 
the reception of the Holy Sacrament. 

4. Regular government necessary to every society upon 
earth: 12 patriarchs and 12 (l>vXapxaL, so 12 Apostles; 
70 in the Sanhedrin, so 70 disciples appointed by our 
Lord ; ['He gave some, apostles ; and some, prophets ; 
and some, evangelists ; and some, pastors and teachers ; 
for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, 
for the edifying of the body of Christ,' Eph. iv, 11, 12;] 
at first, indeed, illiterate men and mechanics were pastors, 
but then they were inspired and miraculously gifted, 
Ephes. iv. 11, 12; bishops, priests, and deacons; 'The 
Lord gave the word : great was the company of those that 
published it,' Ps. [Ixviii. 11]. 

5. Rights and privileges pertaining to this society; 
adopted into the divine family, sons of God, heirs of salvation ; 
not slaves, but subjects ; in every society rights and dues ; 

' Segulla = rfp^D PecuHum, * a a Prophetic view of Christ, faith 

peculiar treasure/ £xod. xix. 5. in God, sacrifices. — M. 


['In this city vdiich hath foundations, whose builder and 
maker is God,' Heb. xL lo;] God hath right to our 
obedience, and we right to His promises ; we are obliged 
to live towards God as servants, subjects, children ; towards 
one another as brethren. 

6. Church invisible and visible; many of the visible 
Church not of the invisible ; can we think that such and 
such, &c. ? 

7. Church not confined to this spot of earth ; text ; 
angels original citizens, we aliens naturalised ; [' Very 
excellent things are spoken of thee, thou city of God,' 
Ps. ;J unihr of the Church, because governed by one Head, 
quicKened and sanctified by the same Spirit, whereof all 
partake, whence a communion of saints; [our Saviour 
saith, 'There shall be one fold, and one shepherd/ 
St John X. 16.] 

8. Recapitulation; Baptism and the Eucharist ; punctual 
in lower forms for small views; spiritual things not per- 
ceived by carnal men ; palace and dungeon ; how eager 
to get in, how cautious of being turned out. Ephes. 
iv. 1-6. 



Acts ii. 38. 
Repent y and be baptized every one of you, 


1. Baptism by water a sign both by nature and appoint- 
ment ; a badge also by which Christians are distinguished. 

2. Seal of God's promises — remission, justification, adop- 
tion. God binds Himself by free promise of grace on His 
part, on our part we become entitled to these promises, to 
the ordinances and the grace conferred by them. 


3. New life and regeneration, Rom. vi. 3, 4, 7. 

' He that believeth and is baptised shall be saved/ Mark 
xvi. 16. 

' Except a man be born again of water and of the Spirit 
he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.' 


1. Men of notoriously wicked lives and of scandalous 
professions anciently excluded ; now [no ?] doubt touch- 
ing children and slaves ; children of believers may, for — 
lo. 'to you and your children are the promises made,* 
Acts ii. 39, &c. ; ' your children are holy,' i Cor. vii. 14 ; 

2. Objection that belief is required ; ans. by parallel ; 
he that will not labour, neither shall he eat, now infants 
are not hereby excluded from eating. — 2. Believers may 
be termed believers, Christ calling them so, Matt, xviii. 
6. — 3. Strictly speaking, it is not faith, but the application 
of Christ's righteousness that justifieth, and this may, if 
God please, be applied otherwise than by faith, v. q. by 
His sanctifying Spirit. 

3. 2d objection : that no mention is made of infants 
being baptised in Scripture ; but neither is mention made 
there of women receiving the Eucharist, — besides, it is 
said, several persons and all their household were bap- 


1. Our Saviour commandeth His disciples to go and 
baptise all nations. The Eunuch of Ethiopia. 

2. I. ob. Christianity maketh no alteration in civil 
rights, servants in the New Testament signifying slaves, 
V. q. Onesimus ; hence objection from loss of property 

3. 2d. ob. That baptism makes slaves worse. Resp. 
This proceeds from an infidel mind ; contrary shewn ; 
what they charge on baptism to be charged on their own 
unchristian life and neglect of instruction. 

4. Duty in masters to instruct and baptise their families, 
but negligent of their own baptism. 



Baptism of adults deferred anciently either for instruc- 
tion or emendation of the Church, but wrongly by them- 
selves deferred. 

1 reason, i®. through supine negligence. 

What so nearly concerns as our own soul? what so 
valuable as the kingdom of heaven ? 

If you were sick, in captivity, or encumbered with debt, 
and you were assured that by an easy method, as wash- 
ing, &c,, would you say you had not leisure to be heard, 
&c. ? 

But these diseases, this servitude, these debts, are of 
infinitely more consequence as respecting our eternal state. 

Should any enemy debar you, how would you rail ! why 
then will you be that enemy yourself? 

2 reas. Despondency. Resp. 'Where sin abounded, 
grace did much more abound,' Rom. v. 20. 

3 reas. Heresy of Novatian. St. Peter, and whole tenour 
of the New Testament and Old. 

4 reas. Wrong notion of a covenant which they appre- 
hend would entrap them ; herein i®. mistake from the nature 
of the covenant, which imposeth no new obligations ; were 
believing men free before baptism, something might be 
said for deferring it, but 'woe to thee, Bethsaida,* &c., 
but ' Sodom,' &c., Matt. x. 14, 15. 20. impiety in mis- 
trusting our Blessed Lord, who invites, saying, * Come to 
Me, all that labour and are heavy laden, and I will refresh 
you ; ' also. He saith His yoke is easy, and His burden light. 
3<>. the greatest folly and blindness to our loss, it being a 
covenant on our part entirely advantageous, a privilege, 
an offer of grace and pardon and invaluable rights. Titus 

5 reas. An unwillingness to forsake sin, a cunning design 
of living to the world and dying to God ; this is to say, 
I will wallow in vice and sin, cheat, purloin, indulge in 
gluttony and drunkenness, and deny nothing that my 
appetite leads to; the first-fruits, flower, prime to the 
devil, the fag-end, when faculty for good and evil is gone, 
to God. 'Thinkest thou that I am such a one as thy- 
self?' Ps. ; but 'God is not mocked,' Gal. 

Our Saviour's parable of those who came late in the day 


to work, not designed to encourage delay in believers, but 
to give comfort to those who had late means of informa- 

But how know you it is not late now ? who hath given 
you a lease of life ? who assured you that you shall live to 
be old, that you shall not die suddenly, that you shall not 
die to morrow, or even this very day? can you think that 
God, whom you never hearkened to, will hearken to your 
first call ? 

When the fever is got into your head, when you can 
neither bend a knee nor lift an eye to heaven, when you 
cannot frame a prayer yourself or join with others. Sup- 
pose baptism conferred then and grace given, you have the 
talent without the time or opportunity to produce fruit or 
profit thereby. 

All things are ready; God now calls, but the devil 
causeth delay ; to-day for me, to-morrow for the Lord. He 
is too cunning to suggest a resolution against ever doing 
what you know should be done, but stealing the present 
he stealeth day after day, till, &c. 

Be enrolled on earth in due time, that you may be 
written in the book of life that is in heaven. 



IN AUGUST, 1730. 

Matt. xxii. 37, 38. 

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, 
and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. 

In arts and sciences certain fundamental truths ; in 
factions and divisions of men a chief tenet or principle ; 
in religion, difference and degrees in principles ; what is 
the chief? our Saviour answers in my text. 

Love various : i. of sensible objects ; 2. of inferiors 
and dependants ; 3. of friendship between equals ; 4. love 


of gratitude and respect to benefactors and superiors; 
5. love of virtue and excellence, i. e. objects of the under- 

Two last the love of God : image of God strongly to be 
impressed for imitation; ever mindful of His benefits, 
numerous, great, constant. 

We shew love to superiors and benefactors by con- 
sulting their honour, i. e. by performing their will, and 
endeavouring that others should perform it. ['This is 
the love of God, that we keep His commandments,' 
John V. 3.] 

/ Will of God known, i. by considering His attributes ; 2. 
1 by conscience and instinct ; 3. by the preaching of Christ 
( and apostles. [' Their sound went into all the earth, and 
\ their words unto the end of the world.'] 
^ Hence, i^. charity, i. e. candour, gentleness, compassion, 
congratulation, wishing and promoting their welfare. 

2®. Temperance, contrivance of appetites and passions, 
limits, objects, mortification, rule the end and tendency. 

30. Resignation ; [' The Lord gave, and the Lord hath 
taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord,' Job ;] good 
with thanks, bad with patience, both mistaken ; strong 
passions, weak judgments; wealth and power in them- 
selves indifferent, good or bad as used ; rather thankful 
than anxious for more. 

4". Worship in spirit and in truth ; holy, as He is holy ; 
not lip-worship, not will-worship, but inward and evan- 

Our interest in this, imperfect creatures, blind and back- 
ward ; actions civil and motions natural, all by law ; thus 
actions moral and religious by rule, i. e. will of God ; will 
follows understanding ; ignorant and impotent ; ['There is 
a way that seemeth right unto man, but the end thereof 
are the ways of death,' Pro v. ;] anguish and remorse ; 
['Woe unto him that striveth with his maker,' Isaiah xlv. 
9 ;] conforming gives happiness, public and private. 

Mind the end and will of God; not enslaved by lust; 
faculties not impaired ; masters not servants to passions, 
bending them to the will of God ; our freedom and per- 

To this single point all religion, virtue, happiness; 
misery from transgressing, happiness from conforming to 


rule ; but no rule so right, &c. ; agreeable harmony ; not 
disturbed, not disappointed, not engaged, not worried, but 
calm, &c. ; living up to nature ; nothing so natural to man 
as an orderly life, regulated by the will of God ; proper 
sphere ; dislocated ; duty and interest joined in the love 
of God. 



St. Luke xxii. 19. 
This do in remembrance of Me, 

I Cor. XI. 26. 

As often as ye eat this breads and drink this cupj ye do shew the LorU's 

death till He come, 

Christ's institution observed constantly in the Church ; 
this sufficient to modest and humble Christians. But 
observed only by few, &c. ; therefore treat of the uses of 
this sacrament, the requisites to it, and the objections 
against receiving it. 

ist use to signify and to seal; bread and wine apt 
emblems, and why : 2. to keep up a memory : 3. to increase 
faith, love of God, joy, thankfulness : 4. to quicken our 
obedience by repentance and resolutions : 5. to distinguish 
Christians from other men : 6. to cement them together : 
7. meet there should be certain solemn times for certain 
duties, to prevent growing into neglect. [' To everything 
there is a season and a time for every purpose under the 

Wrong apprehensions about the Eucharist in Papists 
not considering the circumcision is called the covenant, 
lamb the passover, cup the new testament ; their folly too 
gross : — in enthusiasts or mistaken men, who reject it as 
not spiritual; but why pray? why preach? why build 
houses of worship ? because these are signs or means of 
grace or things spiritual. The like to be said of the 

^ No year ; probably 1730. 
bbrkblby: frasbr. iv. C C 


Practice of primitive Christians, than whom none wiser 
or better now. Inspiration of the apostles and first dis- 
ciples known by miracles. (Acts ii. 15, 17, 18, and iii.) 
No inspiration to be admitted for such without them ; much 
less for pretence thereof to reject institutions of Christ and 
His apostles. 

Wrong apprehensions in other men of our own com- 
munion, who avoid the Eucharist. Ground hereof the fear 
of incurring wrath by abuse ; this founded principally on 
St. Paul's threat to the Corinthians, i Cor. xi. 29 with 21. 
If fear of abuse prevail, why baptised ? why hear a sermon ? 
why read the Scriptures ? 

Things required in the communicants : Faith, i Tim. i. 
15; repentance, James iv. 8; charity, i Cor. x. 16, 17. 
Christians without these exposed to wrath, although they 
forbear the sacrament, the neglect whereof an additional 
guilt. Ps. cxvi. 12, 13, 14. 


I Cor. XV. ao. 

Bui now is Christ risen front the dead, and become the firstfruits of them 

that slept. 

I Cor. XV. 55. 
O death, where is thy sting ? O grave , where is thy victory ? 

2 Tim. I. 10. 

Who abolished death, and brought life and immortality to light 

through the Gospel. 

I. To consider the ways of men^ one would thin k them 
neverTo^ie ; [Psalms, ' the inward thought of the rich, that 
their houses shall continue for ever, and their dwelling- 
places to all generations ; *] to consider how made within, 
what accidents without ; strange should live so long ; no 
heed of reason to prove death, experience frequent ; [Peter, 
' All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower 
of grass.'] 


2. Uncertainty of time ; brevity certain ; case not hope- 
less of a resurrection ; many hints from nature in changes 
analogous thereto ; night and day, winter and spring, fruits, 
plants, insects, production of animals. 

3. Argument from instinct, and natural appetite of im- 
mortality ; reflexion on the growth and perfection of the 
soul, whence designed for higher purposes; this world 
a punishment or a school, the former philosophers, the 
latter Christians. 

4. Job^ and Balaam^ before the Jews; [uncertainty 
of ancients in expressions ^] ; of these David, Ezekiel *, 
Solomon, and Daniel^ [* Job xix. 25, 'I know that my 
Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day 
upon the earth : and though after my skin worms destroy 
this my body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.' ^ ' Let me 
die the death of the righteous, and may my latter end be 
like his.' 'Job xiv. 7, 10, 'There is hope of a tree, if it be 
cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender 
branch thereof will not cease . . . but man dieth, and 
wasteth away : yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where 
is he ? ' * Eccles. xii. 7, ' The dust shall return to the earth, 
and the spirit to God who gave it.' ^ Dan. xii. 2, ' Many of 
them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some 
to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting 

5. Life and immortality brought to light by the gospel ; 
Jewish twilight ; resurrection of Christ proof, as confirma- 
tion, as example. 

6. Christ, predicts and institutes, voluntary ; Jews place 
guard ; soldiers' tale ; Providence in the guard ; appeared 
often, to several, in the day; submits to trials of sense, 
walks, talks, eats and drinks; disciples could not be 
deceived ; ascension ; 3000 converts. 

7. Consider the impossibility of deceiving others : with 
cunning? none; with authority? none; with eloquence 
and learning ? none ; no means. 

8. No motives, punishments, &c. for declaring it, no 
temporal advantage ; nor fame, nor interest, nor prejudices 
answered by it. 

9. Cowardly before, new and high courage ; dispersed 
when alive ; die for him now he is dead ; expected a tem- 
poral prince. 

c c 2 


10. End, goodness, innocence, truth. 

11. Prophecies, miracles, resurrection, ascension; de- 
struction, dispersion of Jews ; wonderful spread of the 
gospel ; like light to Britain and India and Aethiopia. 



Ps. XV. I, 3 

Lord, who shall abide in Thy tabernacle ? who shall dwell in Thy holy hill ? 
He that backbiteth not with his tongue ^ nor doeth evil to his neighbour, nor 
taketh up a reproach against his neighbour, 

1. Frequency; little honour, great guilt; [James i. 26, 
'If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth 
not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, that man's re- 
ligion is vain ; '] text. 4 points : i. what it is contrary to ; 
2. whence it springs ; 3. what effects ; 4. counsels for shun- 
ning it, in the close exhortation against it. 

2. Contrary to charity, i Cor. xiii. 4, 5, 6 ;' taking things 
in the worst sense mark of hatred ; eagerness to tell mark 
of pleasure which shews hatred. 

3. Contrary to justice ; not doing as we would be done 
by; [St. James iv. 12, ' Who art thou that judgest another ?'] 

/Judges obliged to inform themselves. Good and evi l 
( moral depends on unseen springs. Not to draw a general 
character from a single instance. Life, goods, and reputa- 
tion, 3 great possessions ; in the two first wrong evident. 

4. Sign of want of merit ; readiness to suspect others, 
token of inward guilt. 

5. Sign of malignant nature ; like to God and to the 
devil by different qualities. Spider and toad unlike to the 
bee. Pride and ill-will sources of detraction. 

6. Evil effects, viz. loss of reputation, inferring many 
losses, e. g. of comfort, esteem, interest, friendship, &c. ; 
ill-will among neighbours ; bad example to others ; manner 
how reports spread in an instant. 

7. Evil effects to ourselves ; retaliation ; hatred ; con- 
tempt ; loss of time ; no advantage ; no sensual or reason- 


able pleasure ; no esteem. [Prov. x. 18, ' He that uttereth 
slander is a fool.'] This damns more souls than murder 
or robbery. 

8. Counsel to cherish charity towards others. [Titus 
iii. 2, ' Speak evil of no man ; ' and St. James iv. 11, ' Speak 
not evil one of another.*] To look narrowly into our- 
selves ; talk ; to examine whether we have not the same, 
or as bad, or even worse ; beam in our own eye ; great 
use in examining ours, none in others. 

9. Pharisee and publican ; severe to ourselves, candid 
to others; all criminals at the same bar; inditing our 
neighbour, we swell our own indictment. 'Judge not, 
that you be not judged,' &c.. Matt. vii. i, 2 ; Rom. xiv. 4. 


James iv. ii. 
Speak not evil one of another. 

Vices, like weeds, different in different countries; national 
vice familiar; intemperate lust in Italy, drinking in Germany; 
tares wherever there is good seed ; though not sensual, not 
less deadly ; e. g. detraction : would not steal 6</., but rob a 
man of his reputation ; they who have no relish for wine have 
itching ears for scandal ; this vice often observed in sober 
people ; praise and blame natural justice ; where we know 
a man lives in habitual sin unrepented, we may prevent 
h3rpocrites from doing evil ; but to judge without inquiry, 
to shew a facility in believing and a readiness to report 
evil of one's neighbour; frequency, little horror, great 
guilt ; ext. 

4 points ; not contrary to ; whence it springs ; what 
effects ; arguments and exhortation against it. 

Contrary to charity: i Cor. xiii. 4, 5, 6, ['Charity 
suffereth long, and is kind ; charity envieth not ; is not 
easily provoked, thinketh rfo evil ; rejoiceth not in 


iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth ; '] taking things in the 
worst sense mark of hatred. 

Contrary to justice : not doing as we would be done by; 
St. James iv. 12, [' Who art thou that judgest another ? *] 
Judges obliged to inform themselves; moral good and 
evil depends on unseen springs ; life, goods, and reputa- 
tion 3 chief possessions, wrong in the two first evident. 

Springs from want of merit : readiness to suspect others, 
token of inward guilt. He that cannot rise would depress. 

Springs from malignant nature : like to God and the 
devil by different qualities ; spider, toad, and bee ; pride 
and ill-will sources of detraction. 

Evil effects to others: loss of reputation inferring many 
losses, e. g. of comfort, esteem, interest, friendship ; ill-will 
among neighbours ; bad example to others ; [how reports 
spread in an instant.] 

Evil effects to ourselves : retaliation, hatred, contempt, 
loss of time, no advantage, no pleasure sensual or rational. 
[Prov. X. 18, ' He that uttereth slander is a fool.'] This 
damns more souls than murder or robbery. 

Counsel to cherish charity towards others : [Titus iii. 2, 
' Speak evil of no man ; '] to look narrowly into ourselves ; 
to examine whether we have not the same or as bad or 
even worse ; beam in our own eye ; great use in examining 
ourselves, little in our neighbours ; severe to ourselves, 
candid to others ; reverse of the Pharisee ; all criminals 
at the same bar ; judge not, that you be not judged. 

Let a man examine himself, enough to tire, not to satisfy, 
if pleased with others' defects, &c. ; mark of reprobation, 
because contrary to mark of Christ's disciples ; because 
it makes men likest to Satan; he is by etymology an 
enemy to mankind ; he is by office father of lies ; he tempts 
men to sensuality, but he is in his own nature malicious 
and malignant ; pride and ill-nature two vices most severely 
rebuked by our Saviour. 

All deviations sinful, but those upon dry purpose more 
so ; malignity of spirit like an ulcer in the nobler parts, 
less visible but more, &c. ; age cures sensual vices, this 
grows with age; [James i. 26, ' If any man among you 
seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, that 
man's religion is vain ; ' form of godliness, &c. ;] more to 
be guarded against because less scandalous ; imposing on 


Others and even on themselves as religion and a zeal for 
God's service, when it really proceeds only from ill-will to 
man, and is no part of our duty to God, but directly 
contrary to it. [Ps. xv. i, 3, 'Lord, who shall abide in 
Thy tabernacle ? who shall dwell in Thy holy hill ? he that 
backbiteth not with his tongue, or taketh up a reproach 
against his neighbour.'] 



Luke ii. 14. 
Glory to God in the highest^ and on earth peacey goodwill towards nun, 

1. First creation and second : ['when the morning stars 
sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.'] 
Messiah predestinated from the beginning. Adam\ Abra- 
ham ^, Jacob ^ Balaam *, David, Isaiah, Daniel, &c. types. 
Isaiah ix. 6. First long foretold ; anniversary advent cele- 
brated. [Devotion, respect, meditation,] three points in 
the text. P The seed of the woman that should bruise 
the serpent s head. ^ ' In thee shall all the families of the 
earth be blessed.' ' Shiloh, to whom the gathering of 
the people should be. * ' I shall see Him, but not now : 
I shall behold Him, but not nigh : there shall come a Star 
out of Jacob, and a Sceptre shall rise out of Israel.'] 

2. Kingdom of darkness and of light : lust and brutality 
and ignorance; knowledge, truth, faith, virtue, grace. 
Magnify, thank, praise, worship, not as Pagans, nor as 
Jews, but in spirit and truth. [Glory be to God, as 
excellent praised, as good beloved, as powerful adored. 
He is not proud of our praise, or fond of our worship ; 
but, &c.] 

3. Charity, love, forgiveness, peace, doing good, mark 
and distinction, life, soul, substance of our religion. Eph. 
iv. 31; I Cor. iii. 3, 4. Beatitudes; herein goodness of 

4. Goodwill from sin to holiness, death to life, enmity 
to reconciliation, i John iv. 9, 10 ; Isa. liii. 4, 5, 6. No 


cloud, whirlwind, fire, &c., but, &c. Frost and darkness 
before the sun. Jews under the law saved by the same 
means. Faint light. 2 Pet. i. 19. 

[5. Phil. ii. 6, 7. God rendered more visible, not more 
present, by incarnation. Light of the sun unpolluted, 
believe what is revealed, content therewith.] 

6. How is God glorified when sin abounds? Resp. It 
less abounds ; glorified one way in the righteous, another 
in the wicked. How is peace upon earth ? Resp. Among 
true Christians, and all are exhorted to be so : [wars not 
from religion, but from avarice and ambition and revenge ; 
religion only pretext.] How doth goodwill appear to 
men, since they abuse the Gospel? Resp. Goodwill in 
the offer, not in the use; God gracious, though man be 
wicked. That our nature, which was polluted, might 
be sanctified, infirm strengthened, estranged reconciled, 
doomed to hell, admitted into heaven. Adam's curse 
reversed between sentence and execution before. Shall 
angels, stars, inanimate nature, and not man ? Our Blessed 
Lord comes to wash, redeem, adopt ; but man will not be 
washed, will not, &c. What more pitiful and preposterous 
than that we should reject the tender mercies of the Lord, 
renounce our adoption, forfeit our inheritance in that 
blessed region where Christ— whence — whither, &c. 











First published in 1732 


Berkeley left Rhode Island on his return to England 
in the end of autumn, 1731, and must have reached London 
early in the following year. At any rate, on February 18 
he preached the following Sermon, at the Anniversary of 
the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign 
Parts. The office of preacher was naturally offered to 
the Dean of Londonderry, newly returned from his self- 
imposed mission to America in harmony with that for 
which the Society had been founded. Berkeley's Sermon 
was published in London in 1732, and reprinted in the 
Miscellany in 1752. The following Minute is prefixed to 
both editions : — 

' February 18, 173!. 

*At the Anniversary Meeting of the Society for the 
Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, 

'Agreed, That the thanks of the Society be given to 
the Reverend Mr. Dean Berkeley for his Sermon preached 
this day before the Society, and that he be desired to 
print the same. 

'David Humphreys, Secretary,' 

Seven years later, on February 16, 1739, the Anniversary 
Sermon was preached by Bishop Butler, the other great 
theological philosopher of the Anglican Church. 



* This is Life Eternal, that they might know Thee the only true God, and 
Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent* — ^John xvii. 3. 

That human kind were not designed .merely to sojourn 
a few days upon this earth : that a being of such excellence 
as the soul of man, so capable of a nobler life, and having 
such a high sense of things moral and intellectual, was not 
created in the sole view of being imprisoned in an earthly 
tabernacle, and partaking a few pains and pleasures which 
chequer this mortal life, without aspiring to anything 
either above or beyond it, is a fundamental doctrine as 
well of natural religion as of the Christian. It comes at 
once recommended by the authority of philosophers and 
evangelists. And that there actually is in the mind of 
man a strong instinct and desire, an appetite and tendency 
towards another and a better state, incomparably superior 
to the present, both in point of happiness and duration, 
is no more than every one's experience and inward 
feeling may inform him. The satiety and disrelish attend- 
ing sensual enjoyments, the relish for things of a more 
pure and spiritual kind, the restless motion of the mind 
from one terrene object or pursuit to another, and often 
a flight or endeavour above them all towards something 
unknown, and perfective of its nature, are so many signs 
and tokens of this better state, which in the style of the 
Gospel is termed Life Eternal. 

And as this is the greatest good that can befall us, the 
very end of our being, and that alone which can crown 
and satisfy our wishes, and without which we shall be ever 


restless and uneasy ; so every man who knows and acts 
up to his true interest must make it his principal care 
and study to obtain it : and, in order to this, he must 
endeavour to live suitably to his calling, and of consequence 
endeavour to make others obtain it too. For, how can 
a Christian shew himself worthy of his calling otherwise 
than by performing the duties of it ? And what Christian 
duty is more essentially so than that of charity? And 
what object can be found upon earth more deserving our 
charity than the souls of men ? Or how is it possible for 
the most beneficent spirit to do them better service than 
by promoting their best and most lasting interest, that is, 
by putting them in the way that leads to Eternal Life ? 

What this Eternal Life was, or how to come at it, were 
points unknown to the heathen world \ It must be owned, 
the wise men of old, who followed the light of nature, saw, 
even by that light, that the soul of man was debased, and 
borne downwards, contrary to its natural bent, by carnal 
and terrene objects ; and that, on the other hand, it was 
exalted, purged, and in some sort assimilated to the Deity, 
by the contemplation of truth and practice of virtue***. 
Thus much in general they saw or surmised. But then 
about the way and means to know the one, or perform 
the other, they were much at a loss. They were not 
agreed concerning the true end of mankind ; — which, as 
they saw, was. mistaken in the vulgar pursuits of men; 
so they found it much more easy to confute the errors 
of others than to ascertain the truth themselves. Hence 
so many divisions and disputes about a point which it 
most imported them to know, insomuch as it was to give 
the bias to human life, and govern the whole tenor of 
their actions and conduct. 

But when Life and Immortality were brought to light by 
the Gospel, there could remain no dispute about the chief 
end and felicity of man, no more than there could about 
the means of obtaining it, after the express declaration of 
our Blessed Lord in the words of my text — ' This is Life 
Eternal, that they might know Thee, the only true God, and 
Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent.' For the right under- 
standing of which words we must observe that by the 

' Cf. Discourse on The Revelation '•' Cf. Sirisy sects. 294-298, 301- 

0/ Immortality, delivered in 1708. 303, 338-341, 366, 367. 


knowledge of God is not meant a barren speculation, either 
of philosophers or scholastic divines, nor any notional 
tenets fitted to produce disputes and dissensions among 
men ; but, on the contrary, a holy practical knowledge, 
which is the source, the root, or principle of peace and 
union, of faith, hope, charity, and universal obedience. 
A man may frame the most accurate notions, and in one 
sense attain the exactest knowledge of God and Christ 
that human faculties can reach, and yet, notwithstanding 
all this, be far from knowing them in that saving sense. 
For St. John tells us, that 'whosoever sinneth hath not 
seen Christ, nor known Him' (John iii. 6). And again, 
' He that loveth not knoweth not God ' (i John iv. 8). To 
know God as we ought, we must love Him ; and love Him 
so as withal to love our brethren. His creatures and His 
children. I say, that knowledge of God and Christ which 
is Life Eternal implies universal charity, with all the duties 
ingrafted thereon, or ensuing from thence ; that is to say, 
the love of God and man. And our Lord expressly saith, 
' He that hath My commandments, and keepeth them, he it 
is that loveth Me ' (John xiv. 21). From all which it is 
evident that this saving knowledge of God is inseparable 
from the knowledge and practice of His will; — the explicit 
declaration whereof, and of the means to perform it, are 
contained in the gospel, that Divine instrument of grace 
and mercy to the sons of men. The metaphysical know- 
ledge of God, considered in His absolute nature or essence, 
is one thing, and to know Him as He stands related to 
us as Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier is another. The 
former kind of knowledge (whatever it amounts to) hath 
been, and may be, in Gentiles as well as Christians, but 
not the latter, which is Life Eternal ^ 

From what hath been said, it is a plain consequence that 
whoever is a sincere Christian cannot be indifferent about 
bringing over other men to the knowledge of God and 
Christ ; but that every one of us, who hath any claim to 

1 Note how practical knowledge which some philosophers aspire, 

of God in relation to man, as Cf. Aldphron, Dial. IV. sect. 16-22^ 

revealed in Christ, which it is the and Dial. VII, in which the nature 

intention of this Sermon to recom- of man*s knowledge of God, and 

mend, is distinguished from the the mysteries in all our knowledge, 

speculative knowledge of Deity to are considered. 


that title, is indispensably obliged, in duty to God and in 
charity to his neighbour, to desire and promote, so far 
as there is opportunity, the conversion of heathens and 
infidels, that so they may become partakers of Life and 
Immortality. For, ' this is Life Eternal, to know Thee the 
only true uod, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent* 

In my present discourse upon which words, I shall. 

First, Consider in general the obligation that Christians 
lie under, of bringing other men to the knowledge of 
the only true God, and of Jesus Christ. And, 

Secondly, I shall consider it in reference to this laudable 
Society, instituted for the Propagation of the Gospel. 

And, under each head, I propose to obviate such 
difficulties as may seem to retard, and intermix such 
remarks as shall appear proper to forward so good 
a work. 

Now, although it be very evident that we can really have 
neither a just zeal for the glory of God, nor a beneficent 
love of man, without wishing and endeavouring, as occa- 
sion serves, to spread the glad tidings of salvation, and 
bring those who are benighted in the shadow of death 
to Life Eternal, by the knowledge of the only true God, 
and of Jesus Christ whom He hath sent; yet this duty, 
plain and undoubted as it seems, happens to be too often 
overlooked, even by those whose attention to other points 
would make one thmk their neglect of this not an effect of 
lukewarm indifference so much as of certain mistaken 
notions and suppositions. Two principal considerations 
occur, which, in this particular, seem to have slackened 
the industry of some, otherwise zealous and serious 

One I apprehend to be this — that it is surmised the 
Christian religion is in a declining state*, which by many 
symptoms seems likely to end either in popery or a 
general infidelity. And that of course a prudent person 
has nothing to do but to make sure of his own salvation, 

* This refers to the materialistic out his life. Cf. Essays in tht 
or atheistic * free-thinking,* which GuardiaHy Prindpies, Dialogues ; 
so much engaged Berkeley through- also Akiphron^ passim. 


and to acquiesce in the general tendency of things, without 
being at any fruitless pains to oppose what cannot be 
prevented, to steer against the stream, or resist a torrent, 
which, as it flows, gathers strength and rapidity, and in 
the end will be sure to overflow, and carry all before it. 
When a man of a desponding and forebodmg spirit hath 
been led, by his observation of the ways of the world and 
the prevailing humour of our times, to think after this 
manner, he will be inclined to strengthen this his pre- 
conceived opinion, as is usual in other the like cases, by 
misapplication of Holy Scripture : for instance, by those 
words of our Blessed Saviour, ' When the Son of man 
Cometh, shall He find faith on the earth ? * (Luke xviii. 8), 
which have been applied to this very purpose, as importing 
that, before the final judgment, Christian faith should be 
extinguished upon earth ; — although these words do, from 
the context, seem plainly to refer to the destruction of 
Jerusalem, and the obstinate blindness of the Jews, who, 
even then, when they felt the hand of God, should not 
acknowledge it, or believe the Roman army to be the 
instrument of Divine vengeance, in the day of their visita- 
tion, by Him whom they had injuriously treated, rejected, 
and put to death. 

But, granting the former sense might be supported by 
no absurd hypothesis, or no improbable guess, yet shall 
the endeavours of Christian men for propagating the 
Gospel of Christ be forestalled by any suppositions or 
conjectures whatsoever? Admitting, I say, those words 
regard the future advent of Jesus Christ, yet can any one 
tell how near or how far off that advent may be ? Are 
not the times and seasons foreknown only to God ? And 
shall we neglect a certain duty to-day, upon an uncertain 
surmise of what is to come hereafter? This way of 
thinking might furnish as strong reasons against preaching 
at home as abroad, within as without the pale of the 
Church. It would be as specious an argument against 
the one as the other, but in reality can conclude against 
neither. For, as we know not when that supposed time 
of general infidelity is to be, or whether it will be at all ; 
so, if it were ever so sure, and ever so near, it would 
nevertheless become us to take care that it may not be an 
effect of our own particular indifference and neglect. 


But, if we take our notions^ not from the uncertain 
interpretation of a particular text, but from the whole 
tenor of the Divine oracles, from the express promise and 
reiterated predictions of our Blessed Lord and His apostles, 
we shall believe, that 'Jesus Christ is highly exalted of 
God ; to the end, that at His name every knee shall bow, 
and every tongue confess that He is the Lord, to the glory 
of God the Father * (Phil. ii. 9-1 1). That ' He must reign 
till He hath put all enemies under His feet' (i Cor. xv. 25). 
That * He is with us alway, even unto the end of the world ' 
(Matt, xxviii. 20). And that the Church of the living God, 
the pillar and ground of truth, is so far from being 
destroyed by human means, that ' the gates of hell (all the 
infernal powers) shall not prevail against it ' (Matt. xvi. 18). 
Let us therefore banish all such conceits as may seem to 
justify our indolence, as may reason us out of all courage 
and vigour in the race that is set before us ; let us not, 
I say, slacken our own hands, nor enfeeble our own knees, 
by preconceived fancies and suppositions, considering that 
as the success of all enterprises in great measure depends 
on the spirit of the undertakers, so nothing is more apt 
to raise a spirit than hope ; nor to depress it than de- 
spondency. We ought therefore to shake off every vain 
fear in our spiritual warfare. The number, the pre- 
sumption, and the abilities of those who take counsel 
together against the Lord and against His Anointed should 
not dishearten, but rather excite and encourage us to 
stand in the gap. 

Another consideration that may possibly withhold divers 
sincere believers from contributing their endeavours for 
bringing men to the knowledge of God and Christ, and 
thereby to Eternal Life, is — the want of miracles in the 
present age \ Men naturally cast about for reasons to 
countenance the part they take. And as the gift of 
miracles was of mighty influence and help to those who 
were commissioned to spread abroad the light of the 
Gospel in its first promulgation, so no pretence offers 
itself more naturally to excuse a man from executing any 
purpose than the want of authority, which, in the opinion 

^ This ^want of miracles* is also touched in Buder*s anniversary 
sermon in 1739 before the S. P. G. 


of men, cannot be without a just commission, nor this 
unless distinguished by those proper means and powers 
that have been known to attend it. Now, with regard to 
this defect of miracles, I shall beg leave to make two 
observations : — 

First, It is to be observed that if we have not miracles 
we have other advantages which make them less necessary 
now than in the first spreading of the Gospel. Whole 
nations have found the benefit of Christ's religion ; it is 
protected by princes, established and encouraged by laws, 
supported by learning and arts, recommended by the ex- 
perience of many ages, as well as by the authority and 
example of the wisest and most knowing men. Certainly, 
if the greatest part of mankind are Gentiles or Mahometans, 
it cannot be denied that the most knowing, most learned, 
and most improved nations profess Christianity, and that 
even the Mahometans themselves bear testimony to the 
Divine mission of Jesus Christ. Whereas, therefore, in 
the beginning, a few illiterate wanderers, of the meanest 
of the people, had the prejudices, the learning, and the 
power of their own as well as other nations, in one word, 
the whole world, to oppose and overcome : those who at 
this day engage in the propagation of the Gospel, do it 
upon terms in many respects far more easy and advan- 
tageous. It is power against weakness, civility against 
barbarism, knowledge against ignorance, some or other if 
not all these advantages, in the present times, attending 
the progress of the Christian religion, in whatever part of 
the world men shall attempt to plant it. 

In the Second place, we may reflect that if we have 
not the gift of miracles this is a good reason why we 
should exert more strongly those human means which 
God hath put in our power; and make our ordinary 
faculties, whether of the head, or the hand, or the tongue, 
our interest, our credit, or our fortune, subservient to the 
great Giver of them ; and cheerfully contribute our humble 
mite towards hastening that time wherein 'all nations 
whom Thou hast made shall come and worship before 
Thee, O Lord, and shall glorify Thy name ' (Ps. Ixxxvi. 9). 
It is at least a plain case, that the want of apostolical gifts 
should not be pleaded as a bar to our doing that which 
in no respect, either of difBculty or danger, equals or 



approaches the apostolical office. What pretence can 
this supply for men's being quite unconcerned about the 
spreading of the Gospel, or the salvation of souls ; for 
men's forgetting that they are Christians, and related to 
human kind ? How can this justify their overlooking 
opportunities which lie in their way, their not contribut- 
ing a small part of their fortune towards forwarding a 
design wherein they share neither pains nor peril ; the not 
bestowing on it even the cheap assistance of their speech, 
attention, counsel, pr countenance, as occasion offers? 
How unlike is this worldly, selfish indifference to that 
account which St Paul gives of himself, that ^ he sought 
not his own profit, but the profit of many, that they may 
be saved ' (i Cor. x. 33). And yet herein he expected the 
Corinthians (and the same reason will hold for us) should 
be like him ; for he subjoins, ' Be ye followers of me, as 
I also am of Christ.* 

Having considered the duty in general, I come now to 
treat of it with reference to America, the peculiar province 
of this venerable Society * ; which I suppose well informed 
of the state and progress of religion in that part of the 
world, by their correspondences with the clergy upon 
their mission. It may nevertheless be expected that one 
who had been engaged in a design upon this very view, 
who hath been upon the place, and resided a considerable 
time in one of our Colonies, should have observed some- 
what worth reporting. It is to be hoped, therefore, that 
one part of my audience will pardon what the other may 
perhaps expect, while I detain them with the narrative 
of a few things I have observed, and such reflexions as 
thereupon suggested themselves ; some part of which may 
possibly be found to extend to other Colonies. 

Rhode Island, with a portion of the adjacent Continent 
under the same government, is inhabited by an English 
Colony, consisting chiefly of sectaries of many different 
denominations, who seem to have worn off part of that 
prejudice which they inherited from their ancestors against 

* The original design of this British dominion, and to carry it 
Society was to spiiead Christianity among the savage Indians of iht 
in parts of America subject to Western Continent 


the national Church of this land ; though it must be 
acknowledged at the same time, that too many of them 
have worn off a serious sense of all religion. Several 
indeed of the better sort are accustomed to assemble 
themselves regularly on the Lord's day for the performance 
of divine worship ; but most of those who are dispersed 
throughout this colony seem to rival some well-bred people 
of other countries in a thorough indifference for all that is 
sacred, being equally careless of outward worship, and of 
inward principles, whether of faith or practice. Of the 
bulk of them it may certainly be said that they live without 
the sacraments, not being so much as baptised : and as for 
their morals, I apprehend there is nothing to be found in 
them that should tempt others to make an experiment of 
their principles, either in religion or government. But it 
must be owned, the general behaviour of the inhabitants 
in those towns where churches and meetings have been 
long settled and regularly attended seems so much better 
as sufficiently to shew the difference which a solemn 
regular worship of God makes between persons of the 
same blood, temper, and natural faculties. 

The native Indians, who are said to have been formerly 
many thousands, within the compass of this colony, do not 
at present amount to one thousand, including every age 
and sex. And these are either all servants or labourers 
for the English, who have contributed more to destroy 
their bodies by the use of strong liquors than by any means 
to improve their minds or save their souls. This slow 
poison, jointly operating with the small-pox, and their 
wars (but much more destructive than both), have con- 
sumed the Indians, not only in our Colonies, but also far 
and wide upon our confines. And, having made havoc 
of them, is now doing the same thing by those who taught 
them that odious vice. 

The negroes in the government of Rhode Island are 
about half as many more than the Indians; and both 
together scarce amount to a seventh part of the whole 
Colony. The religion of these people, as is natural to 
suppose, takes after that of their masters. Some few are 
baptised ; several frequent the different assemblies : and 
far the greater part none at all. An ancient antipathy to 
the Indians — whom, it seems, our first planters (therein 

D d 2 


as in certain other particulars affecting to imitate Jews 
rather than Christians) imagined they had a right to treat 
on the foot of Canaanites or Amalekites — together with 
an irrational contempt of the blacks, as creatures of another 
species, who had no right to be instructed or admitted 
to the sacraments — have proved a main obstacle to the 
conversion of these poor people. 

To this may be added, an erroneous notion that the 
being baptised is inconsistent with a state of slavery. To 
undeceive them in this particular, which had too much 
weight, it seemed a proper step, if the opinion of his 
Majesty's Attorney and Solicitor-General could be pro- 
cured. This opinion they charitably sent over, signed 
with their own hands ; which was accordingly printed in 
Rhode Island, and dispersed throiighout the Plantations. 
I heartily wish it may produce the intended effect. It 
must be owned, our reformed planters, with respect to 
the natives and the slaves, might learn from those of the 
Church of Rome how it is their interest and duty to 
behave. Both French and Spaniards have intermarried 
with Indians, to the great strength, security, and increase, 
of their Colonies. They take care to instruct both them 
and their negroes in the popish religion, to the reproach 
ot those who profess a better. They have also bishops 
and seminaries for clergy ; and it is not found that their 
Colonies are worse subjects, or depend less on their 
mother-country, on that account. 

It should seem, that the likeliest step towards con- 
verting the heathen would be to begin with the English 
planters; whose influence will for ever be an obstacle 
to propagating the Gospel, till they have a right sense of 
it themselves, which would shew them how much it is their 
duty to impart it to others. The missionaries employed 
by this venerable Society have done, and continue to do, 
good service, in bringing those planters to a serious sense 
of religion, which, it is hoped, will in time extend to others. 
I speak it knowingly, that the ministers of the Gospel, in 
those provinces which go by the name of New England, 
sent and supported at the expense of this Society, have, 
by their sobriety of manners, discreet behaviour, and a 
competent degree of useful knowledge, shewn themselves 
worthy the choice of those who sent them ; and particu- 


larly in living on a more friendly foot with their brethren 
of the separation; who, on their part, were also very 
much come off from that narrowness of spirit which for- 
merly kept them at such an unamicable distance from us. 
And as there is reason to apprehend that part of America 
could not have been thus distinguished, and provided with 
such a number of proper persons, if one-half of them had 
not been supplied out of the dissenting seminaries of the 
country, who, in proportion as they attain to more liberal 
improvements of learning, are observed to quit their 
prejudice towards an episcopal Church : so I verily think 
it might increase the number of such useful men, if pro- 
vision were made to defray their charges in coming hither 
to receive holy orders ; — passing and repassing the ocean, 
and tarrying the necessary time in London, requiring an 
expense that many are not able to bear. It would also 
be an encouragement to the missionaries in general, and 
probably produce good effects, if the allowance of certain 
missionaries were augmented, in proportion to the services 
they had done, and the time they had spent in their mission. 
These hints I venture to suggest, as not unuseful in an 
age wherein all human encouragements are found more 
necessary than at the first propagation of the Gospel. But 
they are, with all due deference and respect, submitted to 
the judgment of this venerable audience. 

After all, it is hardly to be expected that, so long as 
Infidelity prevails at home, the Christian religion should 
thrive and flourish in our Colonies abroad. Mankind, it 
must be owned, left to themselves, are so much bewildered 
and benighted with respect to the origin of that evil which 
they feel, and from which they are at a loss about the 
means of being freed, that the doctrines of the lapsed state 
of man, his reconciliation by Christ, and regeneration by 
the Spirit, may reasonably be hoped to find an easy 
admission-^as bringing with them light and comfort, into 
a mind not hardened by impenitency, nor foreclosed by 
pride, nor biassed by prejudice. But such is the vanity of 
man that no prejudice operates more powerfully than that 
in favour of fashion; and no fashions are so much followed 
by our Colonies as those of the mother-country, which 
they often adopt in their mode of living, to their great 


inconvenience, without allowing for the disparity of circum- 
stance or climate. This same humour hath made Infidelity 
(as I find it too credibly reported) spread in some of our 
wealthjjr Plantations ; uneducated men being more apt to 
tread m the steps of libertines and men of fashion, than 
to model themselves by the laws and institutions of their 
mother-country, or the lives and professions of the virtuous 
and religious part of it. 

But this is not all. While those abroad are less dis- 
posed to receive, some at home are, perhaps, less disposed 
to propagate the Gospel, from the same cause. It is to 
be feared, I say, that the prevailing torrent of Infidelity, 
which staggers the faith of some, may cool the zeal and 
damp the spirit of others, who, judgmg from the event 
and success of those who impugn the Church of Christ, 
may possibly entertain some scruple or surmise, whether 
it may not be, for the present at least, abandoned by 
Providence, and that human care must ineffectually inter- 
pose, till it shall please God, * yet once more to shake not 
the earth only, but also the heavens.* This point had 
been touched before, but deserves farther consideration : 
to the end that the peculiar impiety of a profane age may 
not be a bar to those very endeavours, which itself renders 
more necessary, and calls for more loudly now than ever. 

Whatever man may think, the arm of the Lord is not 
shortened. In all this prevalency of Atheism and Irre- 
ligion, there is no advantage gained by the powers of 
darkness, either against God, or godly men, but only 
against their own wretched partisans. The Christian dis- 
pensation is a dispensation of grace and favour. The 
Christian Church a society of men entitled to this grace, 
on performing certain conditions. If this society is dimin- 
ished, as those who remain true members of it suffer no 
loss to themselves, so God loseth no right, suffereth no 
detriment, foregoeth no good; His grace resisted or un- 
fruitful being no more lost to Him than the light of the 
sun shining on desert places, or among people who shut 
their eyes. 

Besides, this excess, this unstemmed torrent of profane- 
ness, may possibly, in the conclusion, defeat itself, confirm 
what it meant to extirpate, and, instead of destroying, 
prove a means of preserving our religion ; the evil fruits 


and eflfects thereof being so notorious and flagrant, and so 
sensibly felt, as in all likelihood to be able to open the 
eyes and rouse the attention of those who may be blind 
and deaf to every argument and consideration. Or, who 
knows but the Christian Church, corrupted by prosperity, 
is to be restored and purified by adversity? which may 
prove, for aught we can tell, as salutary in future as it 
hath been in past ages. Many insolent and presumptuous 
foes have set themselves against the Church of God ; 
whose hook nevertheless may be in their nostrils, and His 
bridle in their lips, managing and governing even their 
rage and folly to the fulfilling of His own wise purposes ; 
and who may not fail in the end to deal by them as He 
did by the king of Assyria, when He had 'performed His 
work upon Sion and upon Jerusalem, punishing their stout 
heart and high looks* (Isa. x. 12). This presumptuous 
conqueror was, without knowing it, a tool or instrument in 
the hands of that God whom he blasphemed. ' O Assyrian, 
the rod of Mine anger I I will send him against a hypo- 
critical nation, and against the people of My wrath will 
I give him a charge to take the spoil, and to take the prey, 
and to tread them down like the mire of the streets. 
Howbeit he meaneth not so, neither doth his heart think 
so, but it is in his heart to destroy and cut off" nations not 
a few * (Isa. x. 5-7). 

Thus much at least is evident : it is no new thing that 
great enormities should produce great humiliations, and 
these again noble virtues, which have often recovered both 
single men, and whole states, even in a natural and civil 
sense. And if the captivities, distresses, and desolations 
of the Jewish Church have occasioned their return to God, 
and reinstated them in His favour; nay, if it was actually 
foretold, whenever they lay under the curse of God, at 
the mercy of their enemies, peeled and scattered in a 
foreign land, that nevertheless upon their calling His 
covenant to mind, and returning to Him, 'the Lord their' 
God would turn their captivity and have compassion upon 
them * (Deut. xxx. 3). — I say, if things were so, why may 
we not in reason hope for something analogous thereto 
in behalf of the Christian Church ? It cannot be denied, 
that there was a great analogy between the Jewish insti- 
tutions, and the doctrines of the Gospel ; for instance, 


between the paschal lamb, and the Lamb of God slain 
from the foundation of the world ; between the Egyptian 
bondage, and that of sin; the earthly Canaan, and the 
heavenly; the fleshly circumcision, and the spiritual. In 
these and many other particulars the analogy seems so 
plain that it can hardly be disputed. To be convinced 
that the law of Moses and the Jewish economy were figures 
and shadows of the evangelical, we need only look into 
the Epistle to the Hebrews. May we not therefore, in 
pursuance of this same analogy, suppose a similar treat- 
ment of the Jewish and Christian Church ? 

Let us then see, on what terms the former stood with 
God, in order to discover what the latter may reasonably 
expect. The solemn denunciation to the Jews was, 'If 
thou shalt hearken diligently unto the voice of the Lord 
thy God, to observe and to do all His commandments which 
I command thee this day, that the Lord thy God will set 
thee on high above all the nations of the earth * (Deut. 
xxviii. i). But, iit case of disobedience, it is added among 
many other threats and maledictions, 'The Lord shall 
smite thee with blasting and with mildew : and thy heaven 
that is over thy head shall be brass, and the earth that 
is under thee shall be iron * (Deut. xxviii. 22, 23). And 
again, 'The Lord shall smite thee with madness, and 
blindness, and astonishment of heart ' (Deut. xxviii. 28). 
Have not the people of this land drawn down upon it, by 
more ways than one, the just judgments of Heaven? 
Surely we have felt in a metaphor the first of the fore- 
mentioned judgments; and the last hath been literally 
fulfilled upon us. Is it not visible that we are less knowing, 
less virtuous, less reasonable, in proportion as we are less 
religious ? Are we not grown drunk and giddy with vice, 
and vanity, and presumption, and free-thinking, and extra- 
vagance of every kind, to a degree that we may truly 
be said to be smitten with madness, and blindness, and 
astonishment of heart ? . . . 

As anciently most unchristian schisms and disputes, 
joined with great corruption of manners, made way for the 
Mahometan in the east, and the papal dominion in the 
west ; even so here at home in the last century, a weak 
reliance upon human politics and power on the one hand, 
and enthusiastic rage on the other, together with carnal 


mindedness on both, gave occasion to introduce Atheism 
and Infidelity. If the temporal state and outward form 
of the Jewish Church was, upon their defection, overturned 
by invaders; in like manner, when Christians are no 
longer governed by the light of evangelical truth, when 
we resist the Spirit of God, are we not to expect that 
' the heaven above will be as brass,* that the Divine grace 
will no longer shower down on our obdurate hearts, that 
our Church and profession will be blasted by licentious 
scorners, those madmen who in sport scatter firebrands, 
arrows, and death ? As all this is no more than we may 
reasonably suppose will ensue upon our backsliding, so 
we may, with equal reason, hope it will be remedied upon 
our return to God. 

From what hath been said it follows — that in order to 
propagate the Gospel abroad, it is necessary we do it at 
home, and extend our charity to domestic infidels, if we 
would convert or prevent foreign ones. So that a view 
of the declining state of religion here at home, of those 
things that produced this declension, and of the proper 
methods to repair it, is naturally connected with the subject 
of this discourse. I shall therefore beg your patience, 
while I just mention a few remarks or hints, too obvious, 
perhaps, in themselves to be new or unknown to any 
present, but too little visible in their effects to make one 
think they are, by all, much attended to. 

Some, preferring points notional or ritual to the love 
of God and man, consider the national Church only as 
it stands opposed to other Christian societies. These 
generally have a zeal without knowledge, and the effects 
are suitable to the cause ; they really hurt what they seem 
to espouse. Others, more solicitous about the discovery 
of truth than the practice of holiness, employ themselves 
rather to spy out errors in the Church than enforce its 
precepts. These, it is to be feared, postpone the great 
interests of religion to points of less concern in any eyes 
but their own. But surely they would do well to consider 
that an humble, though confused and indistinct, faith, in 
the bond of charity, and productive of good works, is much 
more evangelical than any accurate disputing and conceited 


A Church which contains the fundamentals, and nothing 
subversive of those fundamentals, is not to be set at nought 
by any particular member ; because it may not, in every 
point, perhaps, correspond with his ideas, no, not though 
he is sure of being in the right. Probably there never was, 
or will be, an established Church in this world without 
visible marks of humanity upon it. St. Paul supposeth 
that, *on the foundation of Jesus Christ there will be 
human superstructures of hay and stubble * (i Cor. iii. 12), 
things light and trivial, wrong or superstitious, which 
indeed is a natural consequence of the weakness and 
ignorance of man. But where that living foundation is 
rightly laid in the mind, there will not fail to grow and 
spring from thence those virtues and graces, which are the 
genuine effects and tokens of true faith, and which are by 
no means inconsistent with every error in theory, or every 
needless rite in worship. 

The Christian religion was calculated for the bulk of 
mankind, and therefore cannot reasonably be supposed to 
consist in subtle and nice notions. From the time that 
divinity was considered as a science, and human reason 
enthroned in the sanctuary of God, the hearts of its 
professors seem to have been less under the influence of 
grace. From that time have grown many unchristian 
dissensions and controversies, of men ' knowing nothing, 
but doting about questions and strifes of words, whereof 
Cometh envy, strife, railings, evil surmisings, perverse dis- 
putings of men of corrupt minds and destitute of truth ' 
(i Tim. vi. 4, 5). Doubtless, the making religion a notional 
thing hath been of infinite disservice. And whereas its 
holy mysteries are rather to be received with humility of 
faith, than defined and measured by the accuracy of human 
reason ; all attempts of this kind, however well intended, 
have visibly failed in the event ; and, instead of reconciling 
infidels, have, by creating disputes and heats among the 
professors of Christianity, given no small advantage to its 

To conclude : if we proportioned our zeal to the impor- 
tance of things ; if we could love men whose opinions we 
do not approve ; if we knew the world more and liked it 
less ; if we had a due sense of the Divine perfection and 
our own defects ; if our chief study was the wisdom from 


above, described by St. Paul ; and if, in order to all this, 
that were done in places of education which cannot be 
done so well out of them— I say, if these steps were taken 
at home, while proper measures are carrying on abroad, 
the one would very much forward or facilitate the other. 
As it is not meant so it must not be understood, that 
foreign attempts should wait for domestic success, but only 
that it is to be wished they may co-operate. Certainly if 
a just and rational, a genuine and sincere, a warm and 
vigorous piety, animated the mother-country, the influence 
thereof would soon reach our foreign Plantations, and extend 
throughout their borders. We should soon see religion 
shine forth with new lustre and force, to the conversion 
of infidels, both at home and abroad, and to ' the casting 
down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth 
itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into 
captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ ' (2 Cor. 

X. 5)- 

To whom, with the Father, and the Holy Ghost, be 
ascribed all praise, might, majesty, and dominion, now and 
for ever. 







* I the Lord have brought down the high Tree, have exalted the low 
Tree, have dried up the green Tree, and have made the dry Tree to 
flourish.' — EzEK. xvii. 34. 

First published in Three Parts in 1735, 1736, 1737, and 
reduced to its present form in 1 750 




The Querist is the first in chronological order and also 
in importance of Berkeley's utterances regarding the 
Social, Economical, and Religious condition of Ireland 
that were given forth when he was Bishop of Cloyne. 

The work appeared anonymously, in Three Parts, pub- 
lished severally in 1735, 1736, and 1737, at Dublin, 'printed 
by R. Reilly, on Cork Hill '—Parts I and II, ' for G. Risk, 
G. Ewing, and W. Smith, booksellers, in Dames Street,* 
and Part III 'for Jos. Leathley, bookseller, in Dames 
Street,' with this motto on the title-page — 'Consult not 
with a merchant concerning exchange. Ecclus. c. xxxvii, 
V. II.' This edition is among the rarest; I long sought 
for it in vain when my former edition of Berkeley's Works 
was in preparation, and at last discovered it in a collec- 
tion of curious pamphlets in the Royal Irish Academy, 
after the Works were printed, but in time to place in 
an Appendix the numerous queries which were omitted 
by the author in the later editions. The Three Parts 
of the original edition contain 894. queries. A complete 
reprint of the Three Parts is given by Mr. Sampson, in 
an Appendix to his edition of the Works, but I have not 
judged it necessary thus to reproduce the whole. 

The Querist reappeared in its present form in 1750, 
in London, 'printed for W. Innys, C Davis, C. Hitch, 
W. Bowyer ; and sold by M. Cooper, in Paternoster Row. 



editor's preface to 

Price one shiUing and sixpence ' ; with the author^s name 
on the title-page, and his Word to the Wise appended. 
In that and the following editions, numerous queries con- 
tained in the original Three Parts were omitted, and forty- 
five new ones were introduced. The omissions are mostly 
of those concerned with the Bank of Ireland and matters 
of finance. An edition of the work, thus recast, appeared 
at Glasgow in 1751, the year in which Adam Smith 
became a Professor in that University \ It was included 

' The GlasgoiNr edition (inrhich 
also appends Uie Word to the Wise) 
was ' printed by Robert and 
Andrew Fowlis.' It contains the 
foUowing Preface : — 

' The Printers to the Reader. 

' This city and the neighbouring 
country have been of late years 
distinguished for their industry 
and application to the improvement 
of manufactures, trade, and agri- 
culture, a like spirit diffusing itself 
over many parts of Scotland. We 
could wish, therefore, to render 
printing in this place not only 
subservient to religious literature, 
but also to the knowledge of trade 
and manufactures; and have of 
late applied ourselves particularly 
to republish some of the most re- 
markable books of that kind. We 
began with the celebrated Law*s 
Treatise on Money and Trade. We 
reprinted Mr. Gee on The Trade 
and Navigation of Gnat Britain^ as 
a book universally approved and 
esteemed. With the same view 
we have just now in the press Sir 
Josiah Child on Trade and the 
Interest of Money , and Mr. Law's 
other treatise, entitied Proposals 
and Reasons for constituting a 
Council of Trade in Scotland. In 
prosecution of the same plan, we 
have just now reprinted the 
Querist, originally printed in Dub- 
lin, which was put into our hands 
by a friend whom we look upon 

as a zealous lover of. the improve- 
ments of his country. 

'The Querist was 'wrote with 
a design to promote the imiHt>ve- 
ment of Ireland, and appears to 
have had no small effects that way, 
from the public spirit which has 
of late years discovered itself, and 
seems every year to increase, in 
that kingdom. 

' We see nowhere such noble 
Associations, such generous zeal, 
such extensive attention among the 
gentiemen to promote, by well- 
judged premiums, every valuable 
branch of manufacture, and every 
improvement beneficial to their 

' If reprinting this small work 
here shall contribute to make it 
more generally known and at- 
tended to among us, the Printers 
flatter themselves they Avill have 
done a thing acceptable to every 
one who is a lover of the improve- 
ment of his country. We have 
nowhere found, in so small a com- 
pass, so just and extensive a view 
of the true sources of wealth 
and happiness to a country ; so 
many valuable hints for improving 
the necessary, the useful, and the 
ornamental arts. Many of these 
are at least as far behind still in 
this country as in Ireland. 

* " Mutato nomine, de te fabula 

* Glasgow, January 10, 1751.' 


in Berkeley's Miscellany in the next year. Several reprints 

In 1829 the Querist was published in London, 'with 
notes shewing how many of the same questions still 
remain to be asked respecting Ireland.* 

I have placed in an Appendix to this volume the queries 
that were withdrawn by the author in the second edition, 
numbered as in the Three Parts, and I have also noted, 
under the amended text, their places in the original edition. 
The queries that were added in 1750 are marked by 
brackets. The reader is thus enabled to reconstruct the 
Querist in its original form. 

The Querist marks Berkeley's first appearance as a poli- 
tical economist, moved by his new ecclesiastical position 
and responsibilities to suggest economical lessons which 
he had pondered, for the consideration of his countrymen ; 
among whom he now found himself, in later life, after years 
of wandering and much experience of men and things. 
Its pervading note is that individual industry is the soul of 
social and economical prosperity ; that the remedy for the 
social evils of Ireland lies with Irishmen themselves, who 
must be roused out of their indolent satisfaction with 
' habitations and furniture more sordid than those of the 
savage Americans.' So he asks 'Whether the fable of 
Hercules and the carter ever suited any nation like this 
of Ireland ? Whose fault it is if poor Ireland continues 
poor ? Whether the four elements, and man's labour there- 
in, be not the true source of wealth ? Whether if human 
labour be the true source of wealth, it doth not follow that 
idleness should of all things be discouraged in a free 
state ? Whether the bulk of our Irish peasantry are not 
kept from thriving by that cynical content in dirt and 
beggary which they possess to a degree beyond any other 
in Christendom?' Yet he did not forget the chronic 


420 editor's preface to the querist 

injustice of England to Ireland continued in the eighteenth 
century, or the indisposition of all parties to recognise 
that what was for the good of each was for the good 
of all. He asks ' Whether it be not the true interest of 
England and Ireland to become one people, and whether 
either be sufficiently apprised of this ? Whether a scheme 
for the welfare of the nation should not take in the whole 
inhabitants?' and 'Whether it was not a vain attempt to 
project the flourishing of our Protestant gentry, exclusive 
of the bulk of the natives?' It is one of his highest 
boasts, as Sir James Mackintosh remarks, 'that, though 
of English extraction, he was a true Irishman, and the 
first eminent Protestant, after the unhappy contest of 
the Revolution, who avowed his love for all his country- 
men. The patriotism of Berkeley was not, like that of 
Swift, tainted by disappointed ambition; nor was it, 
like Swifl's, confined to a colony of English Protestants. 
Perhaps the Querist contains more hints, then original, 
still unapplied in legislation and political economy, than 
are to be found in any equal space.* It appeared forty 
years before the Wealth of Nations^ eight years before 
the political and economical Essays of David Hume, and 
when Turgot was still a boy. Yet some of its pregnant 
suggestions anticipate leading doctrines of those illustrious 
economists; and they are presented with an originality 
of literary art, combined with humour and irony, which 
makes the work more interesting to a sympathetic reader 
than any similar book in English literature. Its form 
of expression is characteristic of Berkeley, especially in 
later life : the Analyst ends with a series of queries, and 
he is apt in his letters to pass from the categorical to 
the interrogative form. 


The Querist was first printed in the year one thousand 
seven hundred and thirty-five ; since which time the face 
of things is somewhat changed. In this edition some 
alterations have been made. The three Parts are published 
in one ; some few Queries are added, and many omitted — 
particularly of those relating to the sketch or plan of a 
National Bank, which it may be time enough to take again 
in hand when the public shall seem disposed to make use 
of such an expedient. I had determined with myself never 
to prefix my name to the Querist ; but in the last edition * 
was overruled by a friend, who was remarkable for pur- 
suing the public interest with as much diligence as others 
do their own^ I apprehend the same censure on this 
that I incurred upon another occasion, for meddling out 
of my profession *. Though to feed the hungry and clothe 
the naked, by promoting an honest industry, will, perhaps, 
be deemed no improper employment for a clergyman who 
still thinks himself a member of the commonwealth. As 
the sum of human happiness is supposed to consist in the 
goods of mind, body, and fortune, I would fain make my 
studies of some use to mankind with regard to each of 
these three particulars, and hope it will not be thought 
faulty or indecent in any man, of what profession soever, 
to offer his mite towards improving the manners, health, 
and prosperity of his fellow creatures. 

^ This 'Advertisement* was pre- referred to. 

fixed to the edition issued in the * The tar-water controversy. 

Miscellany of 1752. occasioned by SiriSj in which 

' The edition of 1 750. Berkeley was censured on this 

* Prior was probably the friend ground, e. g. in Anti-Siris. 


Query i. Whether there ever was, is, or will be, an 
industrious nation poor, or an idle rich ? 

2. Whether a people can be called poor, where the 
common sort are well fed, clothed, and lodged ? 

3. Whether the drift and aim of every wise state should 
not be, to encourage industry in its members? And 
whether those who employ neither heads nor hands for 
the common benefit deserve not to be expelled like drones 
out of a well-governed state ? 

4. Whether the four elements, and man's labour therein, 
be not the true source of wealth ? 

5. Whether money be not only so far useful, as it stirreth 
up industry, enabling men mutually to participate the 
fruits of each other's labour? 

6. Whether any other means, equally conducing to ex- 
cite and circulate the industry of mankind, may not be as 
useful as money? 

7. Whether the real end and aim of men be not power ? 
And whether he who could have everything else at his wish 
or will would value money ? 

8. Whether the public aim in every well-governed state 
be not that each member, according to his just pretensions 
and industry, should have power ? 

9. Whether power be not referred to action ; and 
whether action doth not follow appetite or will? 

^ The Querist seems to have been 
the cause, or the consequence, of 
efforts, on an extensive scale, by 
patriotic Irish gentlemen — pre- 
eminent among whom was Thomas 
Prior, Berkeley's life-long friend 
and correspondent — to promote 

agriculture, manufactures, and 
commerce in Ireland. Hence the 
Dublin Society Essays on those 
questions. These Essays appeared 
weekly in 1737 and 1738, and 
were published collectively, in 
Dublin and London, in 1740. 


10. Whether fashion doth not create appetites; and 
whether the prevailing will of a nation is not the fashion ? 

11. Whether the current of industry and commerce be 
not determined by this prevailing will ? 

12. Whether it be not owing to custom that the fashions 
are agreeable ? 

13. Whether it may not concern the wisdom of the 
legislature to interpose in the making of fashions; and 
not leave an affair of so great influence to the management 
of women and fops, tailors and 'vintners? 

14. Whether reasonable fashions are a greater restraint 
on freedom than those which are unreasonable ? 

15. Whether a general good taste in a people would 
not greatly conduce to their thriving? And whether an 
uneducated gentry be not the greatest of national evils ? 

16. Whether customs and fashions do not supply the 
place of reason in the vulgar of all ranks? Whether, 
therefore, it doth not very much import that they should 
be wisely framed ? 

17. Whether the imitating those neighbours in our 
fashions, to whom we bear no likeness in our circumstances, 
be not one cause of distress to this nation ? 

18. Whether frugal fashions in the upper rank, and 
comfortable living in the lower, be not the means to 
multiply inhabitants? 

19. Whether the bulk of our Irish natives are not kept 
from thriving, by that cynical content in dirt and beggary 
which they possess to a degree beyond any other people 
in Christendom? 

20. Whether the creating of wants be not the likeliest 
way to produce industry in a people? And whether, if 
our peasants were accustomed to eat beef and wear shoes, 
they would not be more industrious ? 

21. Whether other things being given, as climate, soil, 
&c., the wealth be not proportioned to the industry ; and 
this to the circulation of credit, be the credit circulated or 
transferred by what marks or tokens soever ? 

22. Whether, therefore, less money, swiftly circulating, 
be not, in effect, equivalent to more money slowly circu- 
lating? Or, whether, if the circulation be reciprocally as 
the quantity of coin, the nation can be a loser ? 

23. Whether money is to be considered as having an 


intrinsic value, or as being a commodity, a standard, a 
measure, or a pledge, as is variously suggested by writers ? 
And whether the true idea of money, as such, be not 
altogether that of a ticket or counter? 

24. Whether the value or price of things be not a com- 
pounded proportion, directly as the demand, and recipro- 
cally as the plenty ? 

25. Whether the terms crown, livre, pound sterling, &c., 
are not to be considered as exponents or denominations 
of such proportion ? And Nvhether gold, silver, and paper 
are not tickets or counters for reckoning, recording, and 
transferring thereof? 

26. Whether the denominations being retained, although 
the bullion were Rone, thin^ might not nevertheless be 
rated, bought, and sold, inaustry promoted, and a circu- 
lation of commerce maintained ? 

27. Whether an equal raising of all sorts of gold, silver, 
and copper coin can have any effect in bringing money 
into the kingdom ? And whether altering the proportions 
between the several sorts can have any other effect but 
multiplying one kind and lessening another, without any 
increase oFthe sum total? 

a8. Whether arbitrary changing the denomination of 
coin be not a public cheat * ? 

29, What makes a wealthy people? Whether mines 
of gold and silver are capable of doing this ? And whether 
the negroes, amidst the gold sands of Afric, are not poor 
and destitute ? 

3<x Whether there be any virtue in gold or silver, other 
than as they set people at work, or create industry- ? 

31. Whether it be not the opinion or will of the people, 
exciting them to industry, that truly enricheth a nation ? 
And whether this doth not principally depend on the means 
for counting, transferring, and preserving power ; that is, 
pro|>crtv ot all kinds ? 

^ Whether, if there was no silver or gold in the king- 
dom» our trade might not, nevertheless, supply bills of 
exchange, sufficient to answer the demands of absentees 
in England or elsewhere ? 

' Queries i:^ 30V la Piut 1 of the 1735 e\iition, toUow here. 


33. Whether current bank-notes may not be deemed 
money ? And whether they are not actually the greater 
part of the money of this kingdom ? 

34. Provided the wheels move, whether it is not the 
same thing, as to the effect of the machine, be this done 
by the force of wind, or water, or animals ? 

35. Whether power to command the industry of others 
be not real wealth ? And whether money be not in truth 
tickets or tokens, for conveying and recording such power ; 
and whether it be of great consequence what materials the 
tickets are made of? 

36. Whether trade, either foreign or domestic, be in 
truth any more than this commerce of industry ? 

37. Whether to promote, transfer, and secure this com- 
merce, and this property in human labour, or, in other 
words, this power, be not the sole means of enriching 
a people ; and how far this may be done independently of 
gold and silver? 

38. Whether it were not wrong to suppose land itself 
to be wealth ? And whether the industry of the people is 
not first to be considered, as that which constitutes wealth, 
which makes even land and silver to be wealth ; neither 
of which would have any value but as means and motives 
to industry? 

39. Whether in the wastes of America a man might not 
possess twenty miles square of land, and yet want his 
dinner, or a coat to his back? 

40. Whether a fertile land, and the industry of its 
inhabitants, would not prove inexhaustible funds of real 
wealth, be the counters for conveying and recording 
thereof what you will, paper, gold, or silver ? 

41. Whether a single hint be sufficient to overcome a 
prejudice ? And whether even obvious truths will not 
sometimes bear repeating? 

42. Whether, if human labour be the true source of 
wealth, it doth not follow that idleness should of all things 
be discouraged in a wise state ? 

43. Whether even gold, or silver, if they should lessen 
the industry of its inhabitants, would not be ruinous to a 
country ? And whether Spain be not an instance of this ? 

44. Whether the opinion of men, and their industry 
consequent thereupon, be not the true wealth of Holland, 


and not the silver supposed to be deposited in tiie bank at 

45. Whether there is in truth any sudi treasure lyin^ 
dead ? And whether it be of great consequence to the 
public that it should be real rather than notional? 

46. Whether, in order to understand the true nature of 
wealth and commerce, it would not be right to consider 
a ship's crew cast upon a desert island, and by degrees 
forming themselves to business and civfl life ; idiile in- 
dustry begot credit, and credit moved to industry? 

47. Whether such men would not all set themselves to 
work? Whether they would not subsist by the mutual 
participation of eai^ other's industry? Whether, when 
one man had in his way procured more than he could 
consume^ he would not exchange his superfluities to supply 
his wants ? Whether this must not produce credit ? 
Whether, to fanlitate these conveyances^, to record and 
circulate this credit, they would not soon agree on certain 
tallies, tokens, tickets, or counters ? 

48. Whether reflexion in the better sort might not 
soon remedy our evils ? And whether our real defect be 
not a wrong way of thinking? 

49. Whether it would not be an unhappy turn in our 
gentlemen, if the\' should take no more thought to create 
an interest to themselves in this or that count}*, or borough, 
than to promote the real interest of their countn- ' ? 

50. Whether if a man builds a house he doth not in the 
first place provide a plan which governs his work ? And 
shall the public act without an end, a view, a plan ? 

51. Whether by how much the less particular folk think 
for themselves, the public be not so much the more obliged 
to think for them * ? 

52. Whether small gains be not the wa}' to great profit ? 
And if our tradesmen are b^;gars, whether the}' may not 
thank themselves for it ? 

53. Whether some way might not be found for making 
criminals useful in public works, instead of sending them 
either to America, or to the other world ? 

' Query 52, in Part I, follows in * Query 55, in Part I. f<^ows in 

first edition. first edition. 


54. Whether we may not, as well as other nations, 
contrive employment for them? And whether servitude, 
chains, and hard labour, for a term of 3'ears, would not be 
a more discouraging, as well as a more adequate punish- 
ment for felons than even death itself? 

55. Whether there are not such things in Holland as 
bettering houses for bringing young gentlemen to order ? 
And whether such an institution would be useless among 

56. Whether it be true that the poor in Holland have 
no resource but their own labour, and yet there are no 
beggars in their streets ? 

57. Whether he whose luxury consumeth foreign pro- 
ducts, and whose industry produceth nothing domestic to 
exchange for them, is not so far forth injurious to his 
country ^ ? 

58. Whether necessity is not to be hearkened to before 
convenience, and convenience before luxury ? 

59. Whether to provide plentifully for the poor be not 
feeding the root, the substance whereof will shoot upwards 
into the branches, and cause the top to flourish ? 

60. Whether there be any instance of a State wherein 
the people, living neatly and plentifully, did not aspire to 
wealth ? 

61. Whether nastiness and beggary do not, on the 
contrary, extinguish all such ambition, making men listless, 
hopeless, and slothful ? 

62. Whether a country inhabited by a people well fed, 
clothed, and lodged would not become every day more 
populous ? And whether a numerous stock of people in 
such circumstances would not constitute a flourishing 
nation? and how far the product of our own country 
may suffice for the compassing this end? 

63. Whether a people who had provided themselves 
with the necessaries of life in good plenty would not soon 
extend their industry to new arts and new branches of 
commerce ? 

64. Whether those same manufactures which England 
imports from other countries may not be admitted from 

^ Query 6a, Part I, follows in first edition. 


Ireland ? And, if so, whether lace, carpets, and tapestry, 
three considerable articles of English importation, might 
not find encouragement in Ireland? And whether an 
Academy for Design might not greatly conduce to the 
perfecting those manufactures among us? 

65. Whether France and Flanders could have drawn 
so much money from England for figured silks, lace, and 
tapestry, if they had not had Academies for designing ? 

66. Whether, when a room was once prepared, and 
models in plaster of Paris, the annual expense of such an 
Academy need stand the public in above two hundred 
pounds a year? 

67. Whether our linen-manufacture would not find the 
benefit of this institution ? And whether there be anything 
that makes us fall short of the Dutch in damasks, diapers, 
and printed linen, but our ignorance in design * ? 

68. Whether those who may slight this affair as notional 
have sufficiently considered the extensive use of the art of 
design, and its influence in most trades and manufactures, 
wherein the forms of things are often more regarded than 
the materials ^ ? 

69. Whether there be any art sooner learned than that 
of making carpets ? And whether our women, with little 
time and pains, may not make more beautiful carpets than 
those imported from Turkey? And whether this branch 
of the woollen manufacture be not open to us ? 

70. Whether human industry can produce, from such 
cheap materials, a manufacture of so great value, by any 
other art, as by those of sculpture and painting ? 

71. Whether pictures and statues are not in fact so 
much treasure ? And whether Rome and Florence would 
not be poor towns without them ? 

72. Whether they do not bring ready money as well 
as jewels? Whether in Italy debts are not paid, and 
children portioned with them, as with gold and silver ? 

73. Whether it would not be more prudent, to strike 

^ Query 73, Part I, follows in seems to be more considered and 

first edition. countenanced among us.] — Au- 

* [Since the first publication of thqr. 
this Query, the Art of Design 


out and exert ourselves in permitted branches of trade, 
than to fold our hands, and repine that we are not allowed 
the woollen ? 

74. Whether it be true that two millions are yearly 
expended by England in foreign lace and linen ? 

75. Whether immense sums are not drawn yearly into 
the Northern countries, for supplying the British navy 
with hempen manufactures? 

76. Whether there be anything more profitable than 
hemp ? And whether there should not be greater premiums 
for encouraging our hempen trade ? What advantages 
may not Great Britain make of a country where land and 
labour are so cheap ? 

77. Whether Ireland alone might not raise hemp 
sufficient for the British navy? And whether it would 
not be vain to expect this from the British Colonies in 
America^ where hands are so scarce, and labour so exces- 
sively dear ? 

78. Whether, if our own people want will or capacity 
for such an attempt, it might not be worth while for some 
undertaking spirits in England to make settlements, and 
raise hemp in the counties of Clare and Limerick, than 
which, perhaps, there is not fitter land in the world for 
that purpose ? And whether both nations would not find 
their advantage therein ? 

79. Whether if all the idle hands in this kingdom were 
employed on hemp and flax, we might not find sufficient 
vent for these manufactures ? 

80. How far it may be in our own power to better our 
affairs, without interfering with our neighbours ? 

81. Whether the prohibition of our woollen trade ought 
not naturally to put us on other methods which give no 
jealousy ? 

82. Whether paper be not at valuable article of com- 
merce? And whether it be not true that one single 
bookseller in London yearly expended above four thou- 
sand pounds in that foreign commodity? 

83. How it comes to pass that the Venetians and 
Genoese, who wear so much less linen, and so much 
worse than we do, should yet make very good paper, 
and in great quantity, while we make very little ? 

84. How long it will be before my countrymen find out 


that it is worth while to spend a penny in order to get 
a groat ? 

85. If all the land were tilled that is fit for tillage, 
and all that sowed with hemp and flax that is fit for 
raising them, whether we should have much sheep-walk 
beyond what was sufficient to supply the necessities of the 
kingdom ? 

86. Whether other countries have not flourished with- 
out the woollen-trade? 

87. Whether it be not a sure sign, or effect of a country's 
thriving, to see it well cultivated and full of inhabitants ? 
And, if so, whether a great quantity of sheep-walk be not 
ruinous to a country; rendering it waste and thinly in- 
habited ? 

88. Whether the employing so much of our land under 
sheep be not in fact an Irish blunder ? 

89. Whether our hankering after our woollen-trade be 
not the true and only reason which hath created a jealousy 
in England towards Ireland ? And whether anything can 
hurt us more than such jealousy ? 

90. Whether it be not the true interest of both nations 
to become one people ? And whether either be sufficiently 
apprised of this ? 

91. Whether the upper part of this people are not truly 
English, by blood, language, religion, manners, inclination, 
and interest ? 

92. Whether we are not as much Englishmen as the 
children of old Romans, born in Britain, were still 
Romans ? 

93. Whether it be not our true interest, not to interfere 
with them ; and, in every other case, whether it be not 
their true interest to befriend us? 

94. Whether a mint in Ireland might not be of great 
convenience to the kingdom ; and whether it could be 
attended with any possible inconvenience to Great Britain? 
And whether there were not mints in Naples and in Sicily, 
when those kingdoms were provinces to Spain, or the 
house of Austria ? 

95. Whether an3rthing can be more ridiculous than for 
the north of Ireland to be jealous of a linen manufacture 
in the south? 

96. Whether the county of Tipperary be not much 


better land than the county of Armagh ; and yet whether 
the latter is not much better improved and inhabited than 
the former ? 

97. Whether every landlord in the kingdom doth not 
know the cause of this ? And yet how few are the better 
for such their knowledge ? 

98. Whether large farms under few hands, or small 
ones under many are likely to be made most of? And 
whether flax and tillage do not naturally multiply hands, 
and divide lands into small holdings, and well-improved ? 

99. Whether, as our exports are lessened, we ought 
not to lessen our imports ? And whether these will not 
be lessened as our demands, and these as our wants, and 
these as our customs or fashions ? Of how great con- 
sequence therefore are fashions to the public? 

100. Whether it would not be more reasonable to mend 
our state than complain of it ; and how far this may be 
in our own power? 

loi. What the nation gains by those who live in Ireland 
upon the produce of foreign countries ? 

102. How far the vanity of our ladies in dressing, and 
of Qur gentlemen in drinking, contribute to the general 
misery of the people ? 

103. Whether nations, as wise and opulent as ours, 
have not made sumptuary laws ; and what hinders us from 
doing the same ? 

104. Whether those who drink foreign liquors, and 
deck themselves and their families with foreign ornaments, 
are not so far forth to be reckoned absentees ? 

105. Whether, as our trade is limited, we ought not to 
limit our expenses ; and whether this be not the natural 
and obvious remedy ? 

106. Whether the dirt, and famine, and nakedness of 
the bulk of our people might not be remedied, even 
although we had no foreign trade? And whether this 
should not be our first care ; and whether, if this were 
once provided for, the conveniences of the rich would not 
soon follow ? 

107. Whether comfortable living doth not produce wants, 
and wants industry, and industry wealth ? 

108. Whether there is not a great difference between 
Holland and Ireland ? And whether foreign commerce. 


without which the one could not subsist, be so necessary 
for the other? 

109. Might we not put a hand to the plough, or the 
spade, although we had no foreign commerce? 

no. Whether the exigencies of nature are not to be 
answered by industry on our own soil ? And how far the 
conveniences and comforts of life may be procured, by 
a domestic commerce between the several parts of this 
kingdom ? 

111. Whether the women may not sew, spin, weave, 
embroider, sufficiently for the embellishment of their 
persons, and even enough to raise envy in each other, 
without being beholden to foreign countries? 

112. Suppose the bulk of our inhabitants had shoes to 
their feet, clothes to their backs, and beef in their bellies, 
might not such a state be eligible for the public ; even 
though the squires were condemned to drink ale and cider ? 

113. Whether, if drunkenness be a necessary evil, men 
may not as well get drunk with the growth of their own 
country ? 

114. Whether a nation within itself might not have real 
wealth, sufficient to give its inhabitants power and dis- 
tinction, without the help of gold and silver? 

115. Whether, if the arts of sculpture and painting were 
encouraged among us, we might not furnish our houses in 
a much nobler manner with our own manufactures ? 

1 16. Whether we have not, or may not have, all the 
necessary materials for building at home ? 

117. Whether tiles and plaster may not supply the place 
of Norway fir for flooring and wainscot ? 

118. Whether plaster be not warmer, as well as more 
secure, than deal? And whether a modern fashionable 
house, lined with fir, daubed over with oil and paint, be 
not like a fire-ship, ready to be lighted up by all accidents ? 

119. Whether larger houses, better built and furnished, 
a greater train of servants, the difference with regard to 
equipage and table between finer and coarser, more or 
less elegant, may not be sufficient to feed a reasonable 
share of vanity, or support all proper distinctions ? And 
whether all these may not be procured by domestic in- 
dustry out of the four elements, without ransacking the 
four quarters of the globe ? 


120. Whether anything is a nobler ornament, in the 
eye of the world, than an Italian palace, that is, stone and 
mortar skilfully put together, and adorned with sculpture 
and painting; and whether this may not be compassed 
without foreign trade? 

121. Whether an expense in gardens and plantations 
would not be an elegant distinction for the rich ; a domestic 
magnificence, employing many hands within, and drawing 
nothing from abroad ? 

122. Whether the apology which is made for foreign 
luxury in England, to wit, that they could not carry on 
their trade without imports as well as exports, will hold 
in Ireland ? 

123. Whether one may not be allowed to conceive and 
suppose a society, or nation of human creatures, clad in 
woollen cloths and stuffs, eating good bread, beef, and 
mutton, poultry, and fish, in great plenty, drinking ale, 
mead, and cider, inhabiting decent houses built of brick 
and marble, taking their pleasure in fair parks and gardens, 
depending on no foreign imports either for food or raiment ? 
And whether such people ought much to be pitied ? 

124. Whether Ireland be not as well qualified for such 
a state as any nation under the sun ? 

125. Whether in such a state the inhabitants may not 
contrive to pass the twenty-fours with tolerable ease and 
cheerfulness ? And whether any people upon earth can 
do more ? 

126. Whether they may not eat, drink, play, dress, visit, 
sleep in good beds, sit by good fires, build, plant, raise 
a name, make estates, and spend them ? 

127. Whether, upon the whole, a domestic trade may 
not suffice in such a country as Ireland, to nourish and 
clothe its inhabitants, and provide them with the reason- 
able conveniences and even comforts of life ? 

128. Whether a general habit of living well would not 
produce numbers and industry ; and whether, considering 
the tendency of human kind, the consequence thereof 
would not be foreign trade and riches, how unnecessary 
soever ? 

129. Whether, nevertheless, it be a crime to inquire 
how far we may do without foreign trade, and what would 
follow on such a supposition ? 



130. Whether the number and welfare of the subjects 
be not the true strength of the crown? 

131. Whether in all public institutions there should not 
be an end proposed, which is to be the rule and limit of 
the means? Whether this end should not be the well- 
being of the whole ? And whether, in order to this, the 
first step should not be to clothe and feed our people ? 

132. Whether there be upon earth any Christian or 
civilised people, so beggarly, wretched, and destitute as 
the common Irish ? 

133. Whether, nevertheless, there is any other people 
whose wants may be more easily supplied from home ? 

134. Whether^ if there was a wall of brass a thousand 
cubits high round this kingdom, our natives might not 
nevertheless live cleanly and comfortably, till the land, and 
reap the fruits of it ? 

135. What should hinder us from exerting ourselves, 
using our hands and brains, doing something or other, 
man, woman, and child, like the other inhabitants of God's 
earth ? 

136. Be the restraining our trade well or ill advised 
in our neighbours, with respect to their own interest, yet 
whether it be not plainly ours to accommodate ourselves 
to it? 

137. Whether it be not vain to think of persuading 
other people to see their interest, while we continue blind 
to our own ? 

138. Whether there be any other nation possessed of 
so much good land, and so many able hands to work it, 
which yet is beholden for bread to foreign countries ? 

139. Whether it be true that we import corn to the 
value of two hundred thousand pounds in some years ' ? 

140. Whether we are not undone by fashions made for 
other people ? And whether it be not madness in a poor 
nation to imitate a rich one ? 

141. Whether a woman of fashion ought not to be de- 
clared a public enemy ? 

142. Whether it be not certain that from the single 
town of Cork were exported, in one year, no less than 

* [Things are now better in re- Querist was first published.] — Au- 
spect of this particular, and some thor. 
others, than they were when the 


one hundred and seven thousand one hundred and sixty- 
one barrels of beef; seven thousand three hundred and 
seventy-nine barrels of pork; thirteen thousand four 
hundred and sixty-one casks, and eighty-five thousand 
seven hundred and twenty-seven firkins 01 butter ? And 
what hands were employed in this manufacture? 

143. Whether a foreigner could imagine that one-half 
of the people were starving, in a country which sent out 
such plenty of provisions ? 

144. Whether an Irish lady, set out with French silks 
and Flanders lace, may not be said to consume more beef 
and butter than a hundred of our labouring peasants ? 

145. Whether nine-tenths of our foreign trade be not 
carried on singly to support the article of vanity ? 

146. Whether it can be hoped that private persons will 
not indulge this folly, unless restrained by the public ? 

147. How vanity is maintained in other countries ? 
Whether in Hungary, for instance, a proud nobility are 
not subsisted with small imports from abroad ? 

148. Whether there be a prouder people upon earth 
than the noble Venetians, although they all wear plain 
black clothes? 

149. Whether a people are to be pitied that will not 
sacrifice their little particular vanities to the public good ? 
And yet, whether each part would not except their own 
foible from this public sacrifice, the squire his bottle, the 
lady her lace ? 

150. Whether claret be not often drunk rather for vanity 
than for health, or pleasure ? 

151. Whether it be true that men of nice palates have 
been imposed on, by elder wine for French claret, and 
by mead for palm sack? 

152. Do not Englishmen abroad purchase beer and 
cider at ten times the price of wine ? 

153. How many gentlemen are there in England of 
a thousand pounds per annum who never drink wine in 
their own houses? Whether the same may be said of 
any in Ireland who have even one hundred pounds per 
annum ? 

154. What reason have our neighbours in England 
for discouraging French wines which may not hold with 
respect to us also ? 

F f 2 


155. How much of the necessary sustenance of our 
people is yearly exported for brandy? 

156. Whether, if people must poison themselves, they 
had not better do it with their own growth ? 

157. If we imported neither claret from France, nor fir 
from Norway, what the nation would save by it ? 

158. When the root yieldeth insufficient nourishment, 
whether men do not top the tree to make the lower 
branches thrive? 

159. Whether, if our ladies drank sage or balm tea 
out of Irish ware, it would be an insupportable national 
calamity ? 

160. Whether it be really true that such wine is best 
as most encourages drinking, i. e. that must be given in 
the largest dose to produce its effect ? And whether this 
holds with regard to any other medicine ? 

161. Whether that trade should not be accounted most 
pernicious wherein the balance is most against us ? And 
whether this be not the trade with France ? 

162. Whether it be not even madness to encourage 
trade with a nation that takes nothing of our manufacture ? 

163. Whether Ireland can hope to thrive if the major 
part of her patriots shall be found in the French interest ? 

[164. Whether great plenty and variety of excellent 
wines are not to be had on the coasts of Italy and Sicily? 
And whether those countries would not take our com- 
modities of linen, leather, butter, &c. in exchange for 
' them? 

165. Particularly, whether the VtnumMameritnum, which 
grows on the mountains about Messina, a red generous 
wine, highly esteemed (if we may credit Pliny) by the 
ancient Romans, would not come cheap, and please the 
palates of our Islanders ^ ?] 

166. Why, if a bribe by the palate or the purse be in 
effect the same thing, they should not be alike infamous ? 

167. Whether the vanity and luxury of a few ought to 
stand in competition with the interest of a nation ? 

168. Whether national wants ought not to be the rule 
of trade ? And whether the most pressing wants of the 
majority ought not to be first considered ? 

' Queries 164, 165 were introduced in the second edition. 


169. Whether it is possible the country should be well 
improved, while our beef is exported, and our labourers 
live upon potatoes ? 

170. If it be resolved that we cannot do without foreign 
trade, whether, at least, it may not be worth while to 
consider what branches thereof deserve to be entertained, 
and how far we may be able to carry it on under our 
present limitations ? 

171. What foreign imports may be necessary for clothing 
and feeding the families of persons not worth above one 
hundred pounds a year? And how many wealthier there 
are in the kingdom, and what proportion they bear to the 
other inhabitants? 

172. Whether trade be not then on a right foot, when 
foreign commodities are imported in exchange only for 
domestic superfluities? 

173. Whether the quantities of beef, butter, wool, and 
leather, exported from this island, can be reckoned the 
superfluities of a country, where there are so many natives 
naked and famished ? 

174. Whether it would not be wise so to order our 
trade as to export manufactures rather than provisions, 
and of those such as employ most hands ? 

175. Whether she would not be a very vile matron, and 
justly thought either mad or foolish, that should give away 
the necessaries of life from her naked and famished children, 
in exchange for pearls to stick in her hair, and sweetmeats 
to please her own palate ? 

176. Whether a nation might not be considered as a 
family ? 

[177. Whether the remark made by a Venetian ambas- 
sador to Cardinal Richelieu — ' That France needed nothing 
to be rich and easy, but to know how to spend what she 
dissipates,* may not be of use also to other people ? 

178. Whether hungry cattle will not leap over bounds? 
And whether most men are not hungry in a country where 
expensive fashions obtain ? 

179. Whether there should not be published yearly 
schedules of our trade, containing an account of the im- 
ports and exports of the foregoing year ^ ?] 

* Queries 177-79 introduced in the second edition. 


180. Whether other methods may not be found for 
supplying the funds, besides the custom on things im- 
ported ? 

181. Whether any art or manufacture be so difficult 
as the making of good laws ? 

182. Whether our peers and gentlemen are bom legis- 
lators? Or, whether that faculty be acquired by study 
and reflexion? 

183. Whether to comprehend the real interest of a 
people, and the means to procure it, do not imply some 
fund of knowledge, historical, moral, and political, with 
a faculty of reason improved by learning ? 

184. Whether every enemy to learning be not a Goth ? 
And whether every such Goth among us be not an enemy 
to the country ? 

185. Whether, therefore, it would not be an omen of 
ill presage, a dreadful phenomenon in the land, if our 
great men should take it in their heads to deride learning 
and education ? 

186. Whether, on the contrary, it should not seem 
worth while to erect a mart of literature in this kingdom, 
under wise regulations and better discipline than in any 
other part of Europe ? And whether this would not be 
an infallible means of drawing men and money into the 
kingdom ? 

187. Whether the governed be not too numerous for 
the governing part of our College^? And whether it 
might not be expedient to convert thirty natives-places 
into twenty fellowships? 

188. Whether, if we had two Colleges, there might not 
spring a useful emulation between them ? And whether 
it might not be contrived so to divide the fellows, scholars, 
and revenues, between both, as that no member should 
be a loser thereby? 

189. Whether ten thousand pounds well laid out might 
not build a decent College, fit to contain two hundred 
persons; and whether the purchase-money of the chambers 
would not go a good way towards defraying the expense ? 

190. Where this College should be situated ? 

[191. Whether, in imitation of the Jesuits at Paris, who 

^ Trinity College, Dublin. 


admit Protestants to study in their colleges, it may not be 
right for us also to admit Roman Catholics into our College, 
without obliging them to attend chapel duties, or catechisms, 
or divinity lectures ? And whether this might not keep 
money in the kingdom, and prevent the prejudices of 
a foreign education^?] 

192. Whether it is possible a State should not thrive, 
whereof the lower part were industrious, and the upper 

193. Whether the collected wisdom of ages and nations 
be not found in books ? 

[194. Whether Themistocles his art of making a little 
city, or a little people, become a great one be learned any- 
where so well as in the writings of the ancients ? 

195. Whether a wise State hath any interest nearer 
heart than the education of youth ? 

196. Whether the mind, like soil, doth not by disuse 
grow stiff; and whether reasoning and study be not like 
stirring and dividing the glebe? 

197. Whether an early habit of reflexion, although 
obtained by speculative sciences, may not have its use 
in practical affairs? 

198. Whether even those parts of academical learning 
which are quite forgotten may not have improved and 
enriched the soil ; like those vegetables which are raised, 
not for themselves, but ploughed in for a dressing of 

199. Whether it was not an Irish professor who first 
opened the public schools at Oxford? Whether this 
island hath not been anciently famous for learning ? And 
whether at this day it hath any better chance of being 
considerable ? 

200. Whether we may not with better grace sit down 
and complain, when we have done all that lies in our 
power to help ourselves? 

201. Whether the gentleman of estate hath a right to 
be idle; and whether he ought not to be the great pro- 
moter and director of industry among his tenants and 

[202. Whether in the cantons of Switzerland all under 

^ Query 191 introduced in '' Queries 194-98 introduced in 

second edition. second edition. 


thirty years of age are not exduded from their great 
203. Whether Homer's compendium of education. 

piw pitnif c/Mvm, w^ipenipa n tpToar. — ISad xx. 

would not be a good rule for modem educators of youth ? 
And whether half the learning and study of these kingdoms 
is not useless, for want of a proper delivery and punctua- 
tion being taught in our schools and colleges ? 

204. Whether in any order a good building can be made 
of bad materials ? Or whether any form of government 
can make a happy state out of bad individuals ? 

205. What was it that Solomon compared to a jewel of 
gold in a swine's snout? 

206. Whether the public is more concerned in anything 
than in the procreation of able citizens ? 

207. Whether to the multiplying of human kind, it would 
not much conduce, if marriages were made with good- 

208. Whether, if women had no portions, we should 
then see so many unhappy and unfruitful marriages? 

209. Whether the laws be not, according to Aristotle, 
a mind without appetite or passion? And consequently 
without respect of p>ersons ? 

210. Suppose a rich man's son marries a poor man's 
daughter, suppose also that a poor man's daughter is 
deluded and debauched by the son of a rich man ; which 
is most to be pitied? 

211. Whether the punishment should be placed on the 
seduced or the seducer? 

212. Whether a promise made before God and man in 
the most solemn manner ought to be violated ? 

213. Whether it was Plato's opinion that, ' for the good 
of the community, rich should marry with rich ? ' — De Leg, 
Lib. iv. 

214. Whether, as seed equally scattered produceth a 
goodly harvest, even so an equal distribution of wealth 
doth not cause a nation to flourish? 

215. Whence is it that Barbs and Arabs are so good 
horses? And whether in those countries they are not 
exactly nice in admitting none but males of a good kind 
to their mares? 


216. What effects would the same care produce in 
families * ?J 

217. Whether the real foundation for wealth must not 
be laid in the numbers, the frugality, and the industry 
of the people? And whether all attempts to enrich a 
nation by other means, as raising the coin, stockjobbing, 
and such arts, are not vain? 

218. Whether a door ought not to be shut against all 
other methods of growing rich, save only by industry and 
merit ? And whether wealth got otherwise would not be 
ruinous to the public? 

219. Whether the abuse of banks and paper-money is 
a just objection against the use thereof? And whether 
such abuse might not easily be prevented? 

220. Whether national banks are not found useful in 
Venice, Holland, and Hamburgh? And whether it is 
not possible to contrive one that may be useful also in 
Ireland 2? 

221. Whether the banks of Venice and Amsterdam are 
not in the hands of the public ? 

222. Whether it may not be worth while to inform our- 
selves in the nature of those banks ? And what reason 
can be assigned why Ireland should not reap the benefit 
of such public banks as well as other countries ? 

223. Whether a bank of national credit, supported by 
public funds and secured by Parliament, be a chimera or 
impossible thing? And if not, what would follow from 
the supposal of such a bank? 

224. Whether the currency of a credit so well secured 
would not be of great advantage to our trade and manu- 
factures ? 

225. Whether the notes of such public bank would not 
have a more general circulation than those of private 
banks, as being less subject to frauds and hazards? 

226. Whether it be not agreed that paper hath in many 
respects the advantage above coin, as being of more 
dispatch in payments, more easily transferred, preserved, 
and recovered when lost ? 

227. Whether, besides these advantages, there be not 

* Queries 202-16 introduced in - Query 201, Part I, follows in 

later edition. first edition. 


an evident necessity for circulating credit by paper, fix>m 
the defect of coin in this kingdom ' ? 

228. Whether it be rightly remaiised by some that, as 
banking brings no treasure into the kingdom like trade, 
private wealth must sink as the bank riseth ? And whether 
whatever causeth industry to flouri^ and circulate may 
not be said to increase our treasure? 

229. Whether the ruinous effects of the Mississippi, 
South Sea, and such schemes were not owing to an abuse 
of p^>er-money or credit, in making it a means for idleness 
and gaming, instead of a motive and help to industry*? 

230. Whether the rise of the bank of Amsterdam was 
not purely casual, for the sake of securiw and dispatch 
of payments ? And idiether the good effects thereof, in 
supplying the place of coin, and promoting a ready circu- 
lation of industry and commerce, may not be a lesson to us, 
to do that by design which others fell upon by chance ' ? 

231. Whether plenty of small cash be not absolutely 
necessary for keeping up a circulation among the people ; 
that is, whether copper be not more necessary than gold*? 

232. Whether that which increaseth the stock of a nation 
be not a means of increasing its trade? And whether 
that which increaseth the current credit of a nation may 
not be said to increase its stock * ? 

[233. Whether the credit of the public funds be not 
a mine of gold to England ? And whether any step that 
should lessen this credit ought not to be dreaded ? 

234. Whether such credit be not the principal advantage 
that England hath over France ? I may add, over every 
other country in Europe ? 

235. Whether by this the public is not become possessed 
of the wealth of foreigners as well as natives ? And whether 
England be not in some sort the treasury of Christendom*?] 

236. Whether, as our current domestic credit grew, 

* Queries 209-18, Part I, follow * Query 228, Part I, follows 
in first edition. in first edition. 

' Queries 221-24, P^^t I, follow * Queries 230-53, Part I, follow 

in first edition. in first edition. 

• Query 226, Part I, follows in * Queries 233-35 introduced in 
first edition. second edition. 


industry would not grow likewise ; and if industry, our 
manufactures ; and if these, our foreign credit ^ ? 

[237. Whether foreign demands may not be answered 
by our exports without drawing cash out of the kingdom*?] 

238. Whether, as industry increased, our manufactures 
would not flourish ; and as these flourished, whether better 
returns would not be made from estates to their landlords, 
both within and without the kingdom ' ? 

239. Whether the sure way to supply people with tools 
and materials, and to set them at work, be not a free- 
circulation of money, whether silver or paper ? 

240. Whether in New England all trade and business 
are not as much at a stand, upon a scarcity of paper-money, 
as with us from the want of specie * ? 

241. Whether it be certain that the quantity of silver in 
the bank of Amsterdam be greater now than at first ; but 
whether it be not certain that there is a greater circulation 
of industry and extent of trade, more people, ships, houses, 
and commodities of all sorts, more power by sea and land? 

242. Whether money, lying dead in the bank of Amster- 
dam, would not be as useless as in the mine ? 

243. Whether our visible security in land could be 
doubted ? And whether there be anything like this in the 
bank of Amsterdam? 

244. Whether it be just to apprehend danger from 
trusting a national bank with power to extend its credit, 
to circulate notes which it shall be felony to counterfeit, 
to receive goods on loans, to purchase lands, to sell also 
or alienate them, and to deal in bills of exchange ; when 
these powers are no other than have been trusted for 
many years with the bank of England, although in truth 
but a private bank? 

245. Whether the objection from monopolies and an 
overgrowth of power, which are made against private 
banks, can possibly hold against a national one * ? 

* Queries 255-59, Part I, follow in first edition, 

in first edition. * Query 267, Part I, follows in 

^ Query 237 introduced in first edition, 

second edition. * Query 273, Part I, follows in 

' Queries 261-64, Part I, follow first edition. 


246. Whether the evil effects which of late years have 
attended paper-money and credit in Europe did not spring 
from subscriptions, shares, dividends, and stockjobbing ? 

24.7. Whether the great evils attending paper-money in 
the British Plantations of America have not sprung from 
the over-rating their lands, and issuing paper without 
discretion, and from the legislators breaking their own 
rules in favour of themselves, thus sacrificing the public 
to their own private benefit ? And whether a little sense 
and honesty might not easily prevent all such incon- 
veniences * ? 

248. Whether the subject of free-thinking in religion 
be not exhausted ? And whether it be not high time for 
our Free-thinkers to turn their thoughts to the improve- 
ment of their country ^ ? 

249. Whether it must not be ruinous for a nation to sit 
down to game, be it with silver or with paper ? 

250. Whether, therefore, the circulating paper, in the 
late ruinous schemes of France and England, was the true 
evil, and not rather the circulating thereof without industry? 
And whether the bank of Amsterdam, where industry had 
been for so many years subsisted and circulated by 
transfers on paper, doth not clearly decide this point? 

251. Whether there are not to be seen in America fair 
towns, wherein the people are well lodged, fed, and 
clothed, without a beggar in their streets, although there 
be not one grain of gold or silver current among them ? 

252. Whether these people do not exercise all arts and 
trades, build ships and navigate them to all parts of the 
world, purchase lands, till and reap the fruits of them, 
buy and sell, educate and provide for their children? 
Whether they do not even indulge themselves in foreign 
vanities ? 

253. Whether, whatever inconveniencies those people 
may have incurred from not observing either rules or 
bounds in their paper-money, yet it be not certain that 
they are in a more flourishing condition, have larger and 
better built towns, more plenty, more industry, more arts 

* Queries 276-78, Part I, follow ^ Queries 280-81, Part I, follow 

in first edition. in first edition. 


and civility, and a more extensive commerce, than when 
they had gold and silver current among them ? 

254. Whether a view of the ruinous effects of absurd 
schemes and credit mismanaged, so as to produce gaming 
and madness instead of industry, can be any just objec- 
tion against a national bank calculated purely to promote 
industry ? 

255. Whether a scheme for the welfare of this nation 
should not take in the whole inhabitants ? And whether 
it be not a vain attempt, to project the flourishing of our 
Protestant gentry, exclusive of the bulk of the natives * ? 

256. Whether an oath, testifjdng allegiance to the king, 
and disclaiming the pope's authority in temporals, may 
not be justly required of the Roman Catholics? And 
whether, in common prudence or policy, any priest should 
be tolerated who refuseth to take it ^ ? 

257. Whether there is any such thing as a body of 
inhabitants, in any Roman Catholic' country under the 
sun, that profess an absolute submission to the pope's 
orders in matters of an indifferent nature, or that in 
such points do not think it their duty to obey the civil 
government ? 

258. Whether since the peace of Utrecht, mass was not 
celebrated, and the sacraments administered in divers 
dioceses of Sicily, notwithstanding the pope's interdict * ? 

259. Whether a sum which would go but a little way 
towards erecting hospitals for maintaining and educating 
the children of the native Irish might not go far in binding 
them out apprentices to Protestant masters, for husbandry, 
useful trades, and the service of families ^ ? 

260. Whether there be any instance of a people's being 
converted in a Christian sense, otherwise than by preaching 
to them and instructing them in their own language ? 

261. Whether catechists in the Irish tongue may not 
easily be procured and subsisted? And whether this 

* Query 289, Part I, follows in in first edition, 
first edition. * Queries 303-4, Part I, follow 

' Queries 291-300, Part I, fol- in first edition, 
low in first edition. " Query 306, Part I, follows in 

' ^ Roman Catholic' — * Popish,* first edition. 


would not be the most practicable means for converting 
the natives? 

262. Whether it be not of great advantage to the Church 
of Rome, that she hath clergy suited to all ranks of men, 
in gradual subordination from cardinals down to men- 
dicants ? 

263. Whether her numerous poor clergy are not very 
useful in missions, and of much influence with the people ? 

264. Whether, in defect of able missionaries, persons 
conversant in low life, and speaking the Irish tongue, if 
well instructed in the first principles of religion, and in 
the popish controversy, though for the rest on a level with 
the parish clerks, or the schoolmasters of charity-schools, 
may not be fit to mix with and bring over our poor 
illiterate natives to the Established Church ? Whether it 
is not to be wished that some parts of our liturgy and 
homilies were publicly read in the Irish language? And 
whether, in these views, it may not be right to breed up 
some of the better sort of children in the charity-schools, 
and qualify them for missionaries, catechists, and readers*? 

[265. Whether a squire possessed of land to the value 
of a thousand pounds per annum, or a merchant worth 
twenty thousand pounds in cash, would have most power 
to do good or evil upon any emergency? And whether 
the suffering Roman Catholics to purchase forfeited lands 
would not be good policy, as tending to unite their interest 
with that of the government ? 

266. Whether the sea-ports of Gal way. Limerick, Cork, 
and Waterford are not to be looked on as keys of this 
kingdom ? And whether the merchants are not possessed 
of these keys ; and who are the most numerous merchants 
in those cities ? 

267. Whether a merchant cannot more speedily raise 
a sum, more easily conceal or transfer his effects, and 
engage in any desperate design with more safety, than a 
landed man, whose estate is a pledge for his behaviour ? 

268. Whether a wealthy merchant bears not great sway 
among the populace of a trading city? And whether 
power be not ultimately lodged in the people'?] 

* Query 31a, Part I, follows in ^ Queries 265-68 introduced 

first edition. in second edition. 


269. Whether, as others have supposed an Atlantis or 
Utopia, we also may not suppose an Hyperborean island 
inhabited by reasonable creatures? 

270. Whether an indifferent person, who looks into all 
hands, may not be a better judge of the game than a party 
who sees only his own * ? 

271. Whether there be any country in Christendom 
more capable of improvement than Ireland? 

272. Whether we are not as far before other nations 
with respect to natural advantages, as we are behind 
them with respect to arts and industry? 

273. Whether we do not live in a most fertile soil and 
temperate climate, and yet whether our people in general 
do not feel great want and misery ? 

274. Whether my countrymen are not readier at finding 
excuses than remedies ^ ? 

275. Whether the wealth and prosperity of our country 
do not hang by a hair; the probity of one banker, the 
caution of another, and the lives of all? 

276. Whether we have not been sufficiently admonished 
of this by some late events ^ ? 

277. Whether a national bank would not at once secure 
our properties, put an end to usury, facilitate commerce, 
supply the want of coin, and produce ready payments in 
all parts of the kingdom ? 

278. Whether the use or nature of money, which all men 
so eagerly pursue, be yet sufficiently understood or con- 
sidered by all ? 

[279. What doth Aristotle mean by saying — 


A^pos €ivai doKfi rd i/6fii<Tf4a. — De Repub. Lib. ix. 9 * ?] 

280. Whether mankind are not governed by imitation 
rather than by reason ? 

281. Whether there be not a measure or limit, within 

* Queries 315-17 follow in first ^ Query 11, Part II, follows in 
edition, and conclude Part I. first edition. 

* Queries 5-8, Part II, follow in * Query 279 introduced in second 
first edition. edition. 


which gold and silver are useful, and beyond which they 
may be hurtful ? 

282. Whether that measure be not the circulating of 
industry ? 

283. Whether a discovery of the richest gold mine that 
ever was, in the heart of the kingdom, would be a real 
advantage to us? 

284. Whether it would not tempt foreigners to prey 
upon us? 

285. Whether it would not render us a lazy, proud, and 
dastardly people ? 

286. Whether every man who had money enough 
would not be a gentleman? And whether a nation of 
gentlemen would not be a wretched nation? 

287. Whether all things would not bear a high price ? 
And whether men would not increase their fortunes with- 
out being the better for it ? 

288. Whether the same evils would be apprehended 
from paper-money under an honest and thrifly regulation ? 

289. Whether, therefore, a national bank would not be 
more beneficial than even a mine of gold * ? 

290. Whether without private banks what little business 
and industry there is would not stagnate ? But whether 
it be not a mighty privilege for a private person to be able 
to create a hundred pounds with a dash of his pen * ? 

291. Whether the wise state of Venice was not the first 
that conceived the advantage of a national bank ' ? 

292. Whether the great exactness and integrity with 
which this bank is managed be not the chief support of 
that republic * ? 

293. Whether the bank of Amsterdam was not begun 
about one hundred and thirty years ago, and whether at 
this day its stock be not conceived to amount to three 
thousand tons of gold, or thirty millions sterling^? 

294. Whether all payments of contracts for goods in 

^ Queries 24-26, Part II, follow in first edition, 

in first edition. * Query 37, Part II, follows in 

^ Query 28, Part II, follows in first edition, 

first edition. * Query 39, Part II, follows in 

' Queries 30-35, Part II, follow first edition. 


gross, and letters of exchange must not be made by 
transfers in the bank-books, provided the sum exceed 
three hundred florins*? 

295. Whether it be not owing to this bank that the city 
of Amsterdam, without the least confusion, hazard, or 
trouble, maintains and every day promotes so general and 
quick a circulation of industry ? 

296. Whether it be not the greatest help and spur to 
commerce that property can be «o readily conveyed and 
so well secured by a compte en banCj that is, by only writ- 
ing one man's name for another's in the bank-book ? 

297. Whether, at the beginning of the last century, 
those who had lent money to the public during the war 
with Spain were not satisfied by the sole expedient of 
placing their names in a compte en banCy with liberty to 
transfer their claims ? 

•298. Whether the example of those easy transfers in the 
compte en banc, thus casually erected, did not tempt other 
men to become creditors to the public, in order to profit 
by the same secure and expeditious method of keeping 
and transferring their wealth ? 

299. Whether this compte en banc hath not proved better 
than a mine of gold to Amsterdam ? 

300. Whether that city may not be said to owe her 
greatness to the unpromising accident of her having been 
in debt more than she was able to pay ? 

301. Whether it be known that any state from such 
small beginnings, in so short a time, ever grew to so great 
wealth and power as the province of Holland hath done ; 
and whether the bank of Amsterdam hath not been the 
real cause of such extraordinary growth ^ ? 

302. Whether the success of those public banks in 
Venice, Amsterdam and Hamburgh would not naturally 
produce in other states an inclination to the same methods'? 

303. Whether it be possible for a national bank to sub- 
sist and maintain its credit under a French Government * ? 

* Queries 41-45, Part II, follow ^ Queries 66-106, Part II, follow 
in first edition. in first edition. 

* Queries 53-64, Part II, fol- * Queries 108-11, Part II, fol* 
low in first edition. low in first edition. 



304* Whether our natural appetites, as well as powers, 
are not limited to their respective ends and uses? But 
whether artificial appetites may not be infinite ? 

305. Whether the simple getting of money, or passing 
it from hand to hand without industry, be an object worthy 
of a wise government ? 

306. Vfhether, if money be considered as an end, the 
appetite thereof be not infinite ? But whether the ends 
of money itself be not bounded * ? 

307. Whether the total sum of all other powers, be it of 
enjoyment or action, which belong to a man, or to all 
mankind together, is not in truth a very narrow and 
limited quantity ? But whether fancy is not boundless ? 

308. Whether this capricious tyrant, which usurps the 
place of reason, doth not most cruelly torment and delude 
those poor men, the usurers, stockjobbers, and projectors, 
of content to themselves from heaping up riches, that is, 
from gathering counters, from multiplying figures, from 
enlarging denominations, without knowing what they would 
be at, and without having a proper regard for the use, or 
end, or nature of things ? 

309. Whether the ignis fatuus of fancy doth not kindle 
immoderate desires, and lead men into endless pursuits 
and wild labyrinths? 

310. Whether counters be not referred to other things, 
which, so long as they keep pace and proportion with the 
counters, it must be owned the counters are useful ; but 
whether beyond that to value or covet counters be not 
direct folly? 

311. Whether the public aim ought not to be, that men's 
industry should supply their present wants, and the over- 
plus be converted into a stock of power ? 

312. Whether the better this power is secured, and the 
more easily it is transferred, industry be not so much the 
more encouraged ? 

313. Whether money, more than is expedient for those 
purposes, be not upon the whole hurtful rather than bene- 
ficial to a state ^ ? 

* Query 115, Part II, follows in ^ Queries 123-39, Part II, follow 

first edition. in first edition. 


314. Whether the promoting of industry should not be 
always in view, as the true and sole end, the rule and 
measure, of a national bank ? And whether all deviations 
from that object should not be carefully avoided ^ ? 

315. Whether it may not be useful, for supplying manu- 
factures and trade with stock, for regulating exchange, for 
quickening commerce, and for putting spirit into the 

316. Whether we are sufficiently sensible of the peculiar 
security there is in having a bank that consists of land and 
paper, one of which cannot be exported, and the other is 
in no danger of being exported ? 

317. Whether it be not delightful to complain? And 
whether there be not many who had rather utter their 
complaints than redress their evils? 

318. Whether, if ' the crown of the wise be their riches ',' 
we are not the foolishest people in Christendom ? 

319. Whether we have not all the while great civil as 
well as natural advantages ? 

320. Whether there be any people who have more 
leisure to cultivate the arts of peace and study the public 

321. Whether other nations who enjoy any share of 
freedom, and have great objects in view, be not unavoidably 
embarrassed and distracted by factions ? But whether we 
do not divide upon trifles, and whether our parties are not 
a burlesque upon politics? 

322. Whether it be not an advantage that we are not 
embroiled in foreign affairs, that we hold not the balance 
of Europe, that we are protected by other fleets and armies, 
that it is the true interest of a powerful people, from whom 
we are descended, to guard us on all sides ? 

323. Whether England doth not really love us and 
wish well to us, as bone of her bone, and flesh of her flesh ? 
And whether it be not our part to cultivate this love and 
affection all manner of ways * ? 

' Query 141, Part II, follows in * [Prov. xiv. 24.]— Author. 

first edition. * Query 156, Part II, follows 

* Queries 143-47, Part II, fol- in first edition, 
low in first edition. 



324. What seaports or foreign trade have the Swisses ? 
and yet how warm are those people, and how well pro- 
vided ! 

325. Whether there may not be found a people who so 
contrive as to be impoverished by their trade? And 
whether we are not that people? 

326. Whether it would not be better for thisjisland, if 
all our fine folk of both sexes were shipped off, to remain 
in foreign countries, rather than that they should spend 
their estates at home in foreign luxury, and spread the 
contagion thereof through their native land ? 

327. Whether our gentry understand or have a notion 
of magnificence, and whether for want thereof they do not 
affect very wretched distinctions ? 

328. Whether there be not an art or skill in governing 
human pride, so as to render it subservient to the public 

329. Whether the great and general aim of the public 
should not be to employ the people ? 

330. What right an eldest son hath to the worst 
education ? 

331. Whether men's counsels are not the result of their 
knowledge and their principles ^ ? 

332. Whether there be not labour of the brains as 
well as of the hands, and whether the former is beneath 
a gentleman ? 

333- Whether the public be more interested to protect 
the property acquired by mere birth than that which is 
the immediate fruit of learning and virtue ? 

334. Whether it would not be a poor and ill-judged 
project to attempt to promote the good of the community, 
by invading the rights of one part thereof, or of one par- 
ticular order of men ? 

[335. Whether there be a more wretched, and at the 
same time a more unpitied case, than for men to make 
precedents for their own undoing ? 

336. Whether to determine about the rights and pro- 
perties of men by other rules than the law be not dan- 
gerous ? 

337. Whether those men who move the corner-stones 

* Query 165, Part II, follows in first edition. 


of a constitution may not pull an old house on their own 
heads ? 

338. Whether there be not two general methods whereby 
men become sharers in the national stock of wealth or 
power, industry and inheritance ? And whether it would 
be wise in a civil society to lessen that share which is 
allotted to merit and industry ? 

339. Whether all ways of spending a fortune be of equal 
benefit to the public, and what sort of men are aptest to 
run into an improper expense? 

340. If the revenues allotted for the encouragement of 
religion and learning were made hereditary in the hands 
of a dozen lay lords and as many overgrown commoners, 
whether the public would be much the better for it ? 

341. Whether the Church's patrimony belongs to one 
tribe alone; and whether every man's son, brother, or 
himself, may not, if he please, be qualified to share therein ? 

342. What is there in the clergy to create a jealousy 
in the public? Or what would the public lose by it, if 
every squire in the land wore a black coat, said his prayers, 
and was obliged to reside ? 

343. Whether there be anything perfect under the sun ? 
And whether it be not with the world as with a particular 
state, and with a state or body politic as with the human 
body, which lives and moves under various indispositions, 
perfect health being seldom or never to be found ? 

344. Whether, nevertheless, men should not in all 
things aim at perfection? And, therefore, whether any 
wise and good man would be against applying remedies ? 
But whether it is not natural to wish for a benevolent 
physician ^ ?] 

345. Whether the public happiness be not proposed by 
the legislature, and whether such happiness doth not con- 
tain that of the individuals? 

346. Whether, therefore, a legislator should be content 
with a vulgar share of knowledge ? Whether he should 
not be a person of reflexion and thought, who hath made 
it his study to understand the true nature and interest of 
mankind, how to guide men's humours and passions, how 
to incite their active powers, how to make their several 

^ Queries 335-44 introduced in second edition. 


talents co-operate to the mutual benefit of each other, and 
the general good of the whole ? 

347. Whether it doth not follow that above all things 
a gentleman's care should be to keep his own faculties 
sound and entire? 

348. Whether the natural phlegm of this island needs 
any additional stupifier? 

349. Whether all spirituous liquors are not in truth 
opiates ? 

350. Whether our men of business are not generally 
very grave by fifty'? 

351. Whether all men have not faculties of mind or 
body which may be employed for the public benefit ? 

352. Whether the main point be not to multiply and 
employ our people ? 

353. Whether hearty food and warm clothing would not 
enable and encourage the lower sort to labour ? 

354. Whether, in such a soil as ours, if there was 
industry, there could be want? 

355. Whether the way to make men industrious be not 
to let them taste the fruits of their industry ? And whether 
the labouring ox should be muzzled ? 

356. Whether our landlords are to be told that industry 
and numbers would raise the value of their lands, or that 
one acre about the Tholsel is worth ten thousand acres in 
Connaught ? 

357. Whether our old native Irish are not the most 
indolent and supine people in Christendom? 

358. Whether they are yet civilised, and whether their 
habitations and furniture are not more sordid than those 
of the savage Americans ^ ? 

359. Whether it be not a sad circumstance to live among 
lazy beggars ? And whether, on the other hand, it would 
not be delightful to live in a country swarming, like China, 
with busy people ? 

360. Whether we should not cast about, by all manner 
of means, to excite industry, and to remove whatever 

* Queries 175-76, Part II, follow "Query 185, Part II, follows 

in first edition. in first edition. 


hinders it? And whether every one should not lend 
a, helping hand? 

361. Whether vanity itself should not be engaged in this 
good work? And whether it is not to be wished that the 
finding of employment for themselves and others were 
a fashionable distinction among the ladies? 

362. Whether idleness be the mother or daughter of 
spleen ? 

363. Whether it may not be worth while to publish the 
conversation of Ischomachus and his wife in Aenophon, 
for the use of our ladies ? 

364. Whether it is true that there have been, upon 
a time, one hundred millions of people employed in China, 
without the woollen trade, or any foreign commerce ? 

365. Whether the natural inducements to sloth are not 
greater in the Mogul's country than in Ireland, and yet 
whether, in that suffocating and dispiriting climate, the 
Banyans are not all, men, women, and children, constantly 
employed ? 

366. Whether it be not true that the Great Mogul's 
subjects might undersell us even in our own markets, and 
clothe our people with their stuffs and calicoes, if they 
were imported duty free? 

367. Whether there can be a greater reproach on the 
leading men and the patriots of a country, than that the 
people should want employment ? [^ And whether methods 
may not be found to employ even the lame and the blind, 
the dumb, the deaf, and the maimed, in some or other 
branch of our manufactures?] 

368. Whether much may not be expected from a biennial 
consultation of so many wise men about the public good ? 

369. Whether a tax upon dirt would not be one way of 
encouraging industry^? 

370. Whether it would be a great hardship if every 
parish were obliged to find work for their poor? 

371. Whether children especially should not be inured 
to labour betimes ? 

372. Whether there should be not erected, in each 

* Added in the edition contained •' Queries 197-99, Part II, follow 

in the Miscellany (175a). in first edition^ 


province, an hospital for orphans and foundlings, at the 
expense of old bachelors ? 

373. Whether it be true that in the Dutch workhouses 
things are so managed that a child four years old may 
earn its own livelihood? 

374. What a folly is it to build fine houses, or establish 
lucrative posts and large incomes, under the notion of 
providing for the poor? 

375. Whether the poor, grown up and in health, need 
any other provision but their own industry, under public 
inspection ? 

376. Whether the poor-tax in England hath lessened or 
increased the number of the poor * ? 

377. Whether workhouses should not be made at the 
least expense, with clay floors, and walls of rough stone, 
without plastering, ceiling, or glazing ^ ? 

378. Whether it be an impossible attempt to set our 
people at work, or whether industry be a habit, which, like 
other habits, may by time and skill be introduced among 
any people ? 

379. Whether all manner of means should not be em- 
ployed to possess the nation in general with an aversion 
and contempt for idleness and all idle folk ? 

380. Whether it would be a hardship on people destitute 
of all things, if the public furnished them with necessaries 
which they should be obliged to earn by their labour ? 

381. Whether other nations have not found great benefit 
from the use of slaves in repairing high roads, making 
rivers navigable, draining bogs, erecting public buildings, 
bridges, and manufactories ? 

382. Whether temporary servitude would not be the 
best cure for idleness and beggary? 

383. Whether the public hath not a right to employ 
those who cannot, or who will not find employment for 
themselves ? 

384. Whether all sturdy beggars should not be seized 
and made slaves to the public for a certain term of years ? 

385. Whether he who is chained in a jail or dungeon 

* Queries 207, ao8, Part II, follow " Query 210, Part II, follows in 

in first edition. first edition. 


hath not, for the time, lost his liberty ? And if so, whether 
temporary slavery be not already admitted among us ? 

386. Whether a state of servitude, wherein he should 
be well worked, fed, and clothed, would not be a prefer- 
ment to such a fellow? 

387. Whether criminals in the freest country may not 
forfeit their liberty, and repair the damage they have done 
the 4)ublic by hard labour ? 

388. What the word servant signifies in the New Testa- 

389. Whether the view of criminals chained in pairs and 
kept at hard labour would not be very edifying to the 
multitude ? 

390. Whether the want of such an institution be not 
plainly seen in England, where the disbelief of a future 
state hardeneth rogues against the fear of death, and 
where, through the great growth of robbers and house- 
breakers, it becomes every day more necessary? 

391. Whether it be not easier to prevent than to remedy, 
and whether we should not profit by the example of 
others ? 

392. Whether felons are not often spared, and therefore 
encouraged, by the compassion of those who should prose- 
cute them ? 

393. Whether many that would not take away the life 
of a thief may not nevertheless be willing to bring him to 
a more adequate punishment * ? 

394. Whether the most indolent would be fond of idle- 
ness, if they regarded it as the sure road to hard labour ? 

395. Whether the industry of the lower part of our 
people doth not much depend on the expense of the upper ? 

396. What would be the consequence if our gentry 
aSected to distinguish themselves by fine houses rather 
than fine clothes? 

397. Whether any people in Europe are so meanly 
provided with houses and furniture, in proportion to their 
incomes, as the men of estates in Ireland ? 

398. Whether building would not peculiarly encourage 
all other arts in this kingdom ? 

399. Whether smiths, masons, bricklayers, plasterers, 

^ Query 227, Part II, follows in first edition. 


carpenters, joiners, tilers, plumbers, and glaziers would 
not all find employment if the humour of building pre- 
vailed ? 

400. Whether the ornaments and furniture of a good 
house do not employ a number of all sorts of artificers, in 
iron, wood, marble, brass, pewter, copper, wool, flax, and 
divers other materials ? 

401. Whether in buildings and gardens a great number 
of day-labourers do not find employment ? 

402. Whether by these means much of that sustenance 
and wealth of this nation which now goes to foreigners 
would not be kept at home, and nourish and circulate 
among our own people? 

403. Whether, as industry produced good living, the 
number of hands and mouths would not be increased ; and 
in proportion thereunto, whether there would not be every 
day more occasion for agriculture? And whether this 
article alone would not employ a world of people ? 

404. Whether such management would not equally pro- 
vide for the magnificence of the rich, and the necessities of 
the poor ? 

405. Whether an expense in building and improvements 
doth not remain at home, pass to the heir, and adorn the 
public ? And whether any of these things can be said of 
claret ? 

406. Whether fools do not make fashions, and wise men 
follow them ? 

407. Whether, for one who hurts his fortune by improve- 
ments, twenty do not ruin themselves by foreign luxury ? 

408. Whether in proportion as Ireland was improved 
and beautified by fine seats, the number of absentees would 
not decrease ? 

409. Whether he who employs men in buildings and 
manufactures doth not put life in the country, and whether 
the neighbourhood round him be not observed to thrive ? 

410. Whether money circulated on the landlord's own 
lands, and among his own tenants, doth not return into his 
own pocket ? 

411. Whether every squire that made his domain swarm 
with busy hands, like a beehive or ant-hill, would not 
serve his own interest, as well as that of his country ? 

412. Whether a gentleman who hath seen a little of the 


world, and observed how men live elsewhere, can con- 
tentedly sit down in a cold, damp, sordid habitation, in 
the midst of a bleak country, inhabited by thieves and 
beggars ? 

413. Whether, on the other hand, a handsome seat 
amidst well-improved lands, fair villages, and a thriving 
neighbourhood, may not invite a man to dwell on his own 
estate, and quit the life of an insignificant saunterer about 
town, for that of a useful country gentleman ? 

414. Whether it would not be of use and ornament if 
the towns throughout this kingdom were provided with 
decent churches, townhouses, workhouses, market-places, 
and paved streets, with some order taken for cleanliness ? 

415. Whether, if each of these towns were addicted to 
some peculiar manufacture, we should not find that the 
employing many hands together on the same work was 
the way to perfect our workmen ? And whether all these 
things might not soon be provided by a domestic industry, 
if money were not wanting ? 

416. Whether money could ever be wanting to the 
demands of industry, if we had a national bank ' ? 

417. Whether the fable of Hercules and the carter ever 
suited any nation like this nation of Ireland ? 

418. Whether it be not a new spectacle under the sun, 
to behold, in such a climate and such a soil, and under 
such a gentle government, so many roads untrodden, fields 
untilled, houses desolate, and hands unemployed ? 

419. Whether there is any country in Christendom, 
either kingdom or republic, depending or independent, 
free or enslaved, which may not afford us a useful lesson ? 

420. Whether the frugal Swisses have any other com- 
modities but their butter and cheese and a few cattle for 
exportation; whether, nevertheless, the single canton of 
Berne hath not in her public treasury two millions sterling ? 

421. Whether that small town of Berne, with its scanty 
barren territory, in a mountainous comer, without sea- 
ports, without manufactures, without mines, be not rich by 
mere dint of frugality ? 

422. Whether the Swisses in general have not sumptuary 
laws, prohibiting the use of gold, jewels, silver, silk, and 

^ Queries 251-54, Part II, follow in first edition, and conclude Part II. 


lace in their apparel, and indulging the women only to 
wear silk on festivals, weddings, and public solemnities ? 

423. Whether there be not two ways of growing rich, 
sparing and getting? But whether the lazy spendthrift 
must not be doubly poor? 

424. Whether money circulating be not the life of 
industry ; and whether the want thereof doth not render 
a state gouty and inactive ? 

425. But whether, if we had a national bank, and our 
present cash (small as it is) were put into the most con- 
venient shape, men should hear any public complaints for 
want of money ? 

426. Whether all circulation be not alike a circulation of 
credit, whatsoever medium (metal or paper) is employed, 
and whether gold be any more than credit for so much 

427. Whether the wealth of the richest nations in 
Christendom doth not consist in paper vastly more than 
in gold and silver? 

4^. Whether Lord Clarendon doth not aver of his own 
knowledge, that the Prince of Orange, with the best credit, 
and the assistance of the richest men in Amsterdam, was 
above ten days endeavouring to raise 20,000/. in specie, 
without being able to raise half the sum in all that time ? 
(See Clarendon's History^ Bk. xii.) * 

429. Supposing there had been hitherto no such thing 
as a bank, and the question were now first proposed, 
whether it would be safer to circulate unlimited bills in 
a private credit, or bills to a limited value on the public 
credit of the community, what would men think ^ ? 

430. Whether the maxim, ' What is everybody's business 
is nobody's,' prevails in any country under the sun more 
than in Ireland'? 

431. Whether the united stock of a nation be not the 
best security ? And whether anjrthing but the ruin of the 
state can produce a national bankruptcy ? 

432. Whether the total sum of the public treasure, 
power, and wisdom, all co-operating, be not most likely 

' Queries 13-22, Part III, follow in first edition, 
in first edition. * Queries 30-50, Part III, follow 

^ Queries 24-28, Part III, follow in first edition. 


to establish a bank of credit, sufficient to answer the ends, 
relieve the wants, and satisfy the scruples of all 
people ^ ? 

433- Whether London is not to be considered as the 
metropolis of Ireland ? And whether our wealth (such as 
it is) doth not circulate through London and throughout all 
England, as freely as that of any part of his Majesty's 
dominions ? 

434. Whether therefore it be not evidently the interest 
of the people of England to encourage rather than to 
oppose a national bank in this kingdom, as well as every 
other means for advancing our wealth which shall not 
impair their own? 

435. Whether it is not our interest to be useful to them 
rather than rival them ; and whether in that case we may 
not be sure of their good offices ? 

436. Whether we can propose to thrive so long as we 
entertain a wrongheaded distrust of England ? 

437. Whether, as a national bank would increase our 
industry, and that our wealth, England may not be a pro- 
portionable gainer ; and whether we should not consider 
the gains of our mother-country as some accession to our 

438. Whether there be any difficulty in comprehending 
that the whole wealth of the nation is in truth the stock of 
a national bank ? And whether any more than the right 
comprehension of this be necessary to make all men easy 
with regard to its credit ' ? 

439. Whether the prejudices about gold and silver are 
not strong, but whether they are not still prejudices ? 

440. Whether paper doth not by its stamp and signa- 
ture acquire a local value, and become as precious and 
as scarce as gold ? And whether it be not much fitter 
to circulate large sums, and therefore preferable to 
gold * ? 

441. Whether it doth not much import to have a right 

* Queries 53-72, Part III, follow ^ Query 85, Part III, follows in 

in first edition. first edition. 

' Queries 78-83, Part III, follow * Query 88, Part III, follows in 

in first edition. first edition. 


conception of money ? And whether its true and just idea 
be not that of a ticket, entitling to power, and fitted to 
record and transfer such power*? 

442. Though the bank of Amsterdam doth very rarely, 
if at all, pay out money, yet whether every man possessed 
of specie be not ready to convert it into paper, and act 
as cashier to the bank ? And whether, from the same 
motive, every monied man throughout this kingdom would 
not be cashier to our national bank ^ ? 

443. Whether we may not obtain that as friends which 
it is in vain to hope for as rivals? 

444. Whether in every instance by which we prejudice 
England, we do not in a greater degree prejudice our- 
selves ? 

445. Whether in the rude original of society the first 
step was not the exchanging of commodities ; the next 
a substituting of metals by weight as the common medium 
of circulation ; after this the making use of coin ; lastly, 
a further refinement by the use of paper with proper 
marks and signatures ? And whether this, as it is the 
last, so it be not the greatest improvement ? 

446. Whether we are not in fact the only people who 
may be said to starve in the midst of plenty ^ ? 

447. Whether there can be a worse sign than that 
people should quit their country for a livelihood ? Though 
men often leave their country for health, or pleasure, or 
riches, yet to leave it merely for a livelihood, whether this 
be not exceeding bad, and sheweth some peculiar mis- 
management * ? 

448. Whether, in order to redress our evils, artificial 
helps are not most wanted in a land where industry is 
most against the natural grain of the people * ? 

449. Whether, although the prepossessions about gold 
and silver have taken deep root, yet the example of our 
Colonies in America doth not make it as plain as daylight 

^ Queries 90, 91, Part III, in first edition, 
follow in first edition. * Query 104, Part III, follows 

2 Queries 93-97, Part III, follow in first edition, 
in first edition. ^ Queries jo6, 107, Part III, 

^ Query 102, Part III, follows follow in first edition. 


that they are not so necessary to the wealth of a nation as 
the vulgar of all ranks imagine ? 

450. Whether it be not evident that we may maintain 
a much greater inward and outward commerce, and be 
five times richer than we are, nay, and our bills abroad be 
of far greater credit, though we had not one ounce of 
gold or silver in the whole island ? 

451. Whether wrongheaded maxims, customs, and 
fashions are not sufficient to destroy any people which 
hath so few resources as the inhabitants of Ireland ? 

452. Whether it would not be a horrible thing to see 
our matrons make dress and play their chief concern ? 

453. Whether our ladies might not as well endow 
monasteries as wear Flanders lace ? And whether it be 
not true that Popish nuns are maintained by Protestant 
contributions ? 

454. Whether England, which hath a free trade, what- 
ever she remits for foreign luxury with one hand, doth not 
with the other receive much more from abroad ? Whether, 
nevertheless, this nation would not be a gainer, if our 
women would content themselves with the same modera- 
tion in point of expense as the English ladies ? 

455. But whether it be not a notorious truth that our 
Irish ladies are on a foot, as to dress, with those of five 
times their fortune in England ? 

456. Whether it be not even certain that the matrons 
of this forlorn country send out a greater proportion of 
its wealth, for fine apparel, than any other females on the 
whole surface of this terraqueous globe ? 

457. Whether the expense, great as it is, be the greatest 
evil ; but whether this folly may not produce many other 
follies, an entire derangement of domestic life, absurd 
manners, neglect of duties, bad mothers, a general corrup- 
tion in both sexes ^ ? 

458. Whether the first beginning of expedients do not 
always meet with prejudices ? And whether even the 
prejudices of a people ought not to be respected ? 

459. Whether a national bank be not the true philo- 
sopher's stone in a state ^ ? 

* Queries 1 1 7-30, Part III, follow 'Queries 133-39, Part III, 

in first edition. follow in first edition. 


460. Whether all regulations of coin should not be 
made with a view to encourage industry, and a circulation 
of commerce, throughout the kingdom * ? 

461. Whether to oil the wheels of commerce be not 
a common benefit ? And whether this be not done by 
avoiding fractions and multiplying small silver ^ ? 

462. Whether, all things considered, a general raising 
the value of gold and silver be not so far from bringing 
greater quantities thereof into the kingdom that it would 
produce a direct contrary effect, inasmuch as less, in that 
case, would serve, and therefore less be wanted ? And 
whether men do not import a commodity in proportion 
to the demand or want of it ? 

463. Whether the lowering of our gold would not create 
a fever in the state ? And whether a fever be not some- 
times a cure, but whether it be not the last cure a man 
would choose ' ? 

464. Whether raising tfie value of a particular species 
will not tend to multiply such species, and to lessen others 
in proportion thereunto? And whether a much less 
quantity of cash in silver would not, in reality, enrich 
the nation more than a much greater in gold * ? 

465. Whether, cceteris paribus^ it be not true that the 
prices of things increase as the quantity of money in- 
creaseth, and are diminished as that is diminished ? And 
whether, by the quantity of money, is not to be understood 
the amount of the denominations, all contracts being 
nominal for pounds, shillings, and pence, and not for 
weights of gold or silver ^ ? 

466. Whether our exports do not consist of such neces- 
saries as other countries cannot well be without ? 

467. Whether upon the circulation of a national bank 

' Query 141, Part III, follows in follow in first edition, 

first edition. * Queries 154-56, Part III, 

2 Queries 143-47, Part III, follow in first edition, 

follow in first edition. * Queries 158, 159, Part III. 

^ Queries 150-52, Part III, follow in first edition. 


more land would not be tilled, more hands employed, and 
consequently more commodities exported ^ ? 

468. Whether silver and small money be not that which 
circulates the quickest, and passeth through all hands, 
on the road, in the market, at the shop ? 

469. Whether, all things considered, it would not be 
better for a kingdom that its cash consisted of half a million 
in small silver, than of five times that sum in gold ? 

470. Whether there be not every day five hundred 
lesser payments made for one that requires gold ? 

471. whether Spain, where gold bears the highest 
value, be not the laziest, and China, where it bears the 
lowest, be not the most industrious country in the known 
world'* ? 

472. Whether it be not evidently the interest of every 
state, that its money should rather circulate than stagnate ? 

473. Whether the principal use of cash be not its ready 
passing from hand to hand, to answer cpmmon occasions 
of the common people, and whether common occasions 
of all sorts of people are not small ones ? 

474. Whether business at fairs and markets is not often 
at a stand and often hindered, even though the seller hath 
his commodities at hand, and the purchaser his gold, for 
want of change ^ ? 

475. As wealth is really power, and coin a ticket con- 
veying power, whether those tickets which are the fittest 
for that use ought not to be preferred ? 

476. Whether those tickets which singly transfer small 
shares of power, and, being multiplied, large shares, are 
not fitter for common use than those which singly transfer 
large shares ? 

477. Whether the public is not more benefited by a 
shilling that circulates than a pound that lies dead ? 

478. Whether sixpence twice paid be not as good as 
a shilling once paid? 

479. Whether the same shilling circulating in a village 

^ Queries 162-71, Part III, in first edition, 
follow in first edition. * Query 180, Part III, follows 

' Query 176, Part III, follows in first edition. 



may not supply one man with bread, another with stock- 
ings, a third with a knife, a fourth with paper, a fifth with 
nails, and so answer many wants which must otherwise 
have remained unsatisfied ? 

480. Whether facilitating and quickening the circulation 
of power to supply wants be not the promoting of wealth 
and industry among the lower people ? And whether 
upon this the wealth of the great doth not depend ? 

481. Whether, without the proper means of circulation, 
it be not vain to hope for thriving manufactures and a busy 
people ? 

482. Whether four pounds in small cash may not. circu- 
late and enliven an Irish market, which many four-pound 
pieces would permit to stagnate ^ ? 

483. Whether a man that could move nothing less than 
a hundred-pound weight would not be much at a loss to 
supply his wants; and whether it would not be better 
for him to be less strong and more active? 

484. Whether the natural body can be in a state of 
health and vigour without a due circulation of the ex- 
tremities, even in the fingers and toes ? And whether the 
political body, any more than the natural, can thrive with- 
out a proportionable circulation through the minutest and 
most inconsiderable parts thereof? 

485. If we had a mint for coining only shillings, six- 
pences, and copper-money, whether the nation would not 
soon feel the good effects thereof? 

486. Whether the greater waste by wearing of small 
coins would not be abundantly overbalanced by their 
usefulness ? 

487. Whether it be not the industry of common people 
that feeds the state, and whether it be possible to keep 
this industry alive without small money ? 

488. Whether the want of this be not a great bar to our 
employing the people in these manufactures which are 
open to us, and do not interfere with Great Britain ? 

489. Whether therefore such want doth not drive men 
into the lazy way of employing land under sheep-walk ? 

490. Whether the running of wool from Ireland can 

^ [In the year 1735, this coun- overrated, flowed in from all parts, 
try abounded with the large gold But that evil is since remedied.]— 
coins of Portugal, which, being Author. 


SO effectually be prevented as by encouraging other 
business and manufactures among our people ? 

491. Whatever commodities Great Britain importeth 
which we might supply, whether it be not her real interest 
to import them from us rather than from any other people? 

492. Whether the apprehension of many among us (who 
for that very reason stick to their wool), that England may 
hereafter prohibit, limit, or discourage our linen trade, 
when it hath been once, with great pains and expense, 
thoroughly introduced and settled in this land, be not 
altogether groundless and unjust? 

493. Whether it is possible for this country, which hath 
neither mines of gold nor a free trade, to support for any 
time the sending out of specie ? 

494. Whether in fact our payments are not made by 
bills ? And whether our foreign credit doth not depend 
on our domestic industry, and our bills on that credit ? 

495. Whether, in order to mend it, we ought not first 
to know the peculiar wretchedness of our state ? And 
whether there be any knowing of this but by comparison ? 

496. Whether there are not single market towns in 
England that turn more money in buying and selling than 
whole countries (perhaps provinces) with us ? 

497. Whether the small town of Birmingham alone doth 
not, upon an average, circulate every week, one way 
or other, to the value of fifty thousand pounds ? But 
whether the same crown may not be often paid * ? 

498. Whether any kingdom in Europe be so good 
a customer at Bourdeaux as Ireland ? 

499. Whether the police and economy of France be not 
governed by wise councils ? And whether any one from 
this country, who sees their towns, and manufactures, and 
commerce, will not wonder what our senators have been 
doing ? 

500. What variety and number of excellent manufac- 
tures are to be met with throughout the whole kingdom of 
France ? 

501. Whether there are not everywhere some or other 
mills for many uses, forges and furnaces for iron-work, 
looms for tapestry, glass-houses, and so forth ? 

^ Queries 204, 205, Part III, follow in first edition. 

H h 2 


502. What quantities of paper, stockings, hats ; what 
manufactures of wool, silk, linen, hemp, leather, wax, 
earthenware, brass, lead, tin, &c. ? 

503. Whether the manufactures and commerce of the 
single town of Lyons do not amount to a greater value 
than all the manufactures and all the trade of this kingdom 
taken together^? 

504. Whether, in the anniversary fair at the small town 
of Beaucair upon the Rhone, there be not as much money 
laid out as the current cash of this kingdom amounts to * ? 

505. Whether the very shreds shorn from woollen cloth, 
which are thrown away in Ireland, do not make a beautiful 
tapestry in France ' ? 

506. Whether there be not French towns subsisted 
merely by making pins? 

507. whether the coarse fingers of those very women, 
those same peasants who one part of the year till the 
ground and dress the vineyards, are not another employed 
in making the finest French point ? 

508. Whether there is not a great number of idle fingers 
among the wives and daughters of our peasants * ? 

509. Whether the French do not raise a trade from 
saffron, dying drugs, and the like products, which may do 
with us as well as with them ? 

510. Whether we may not have materials of our own 
growth to supply all manufactures, as well as France, 
except silk, and whether the bulk of what silk even France 
manufactures be not imported ? 

511. Whether it be possible for this country to grow 
rich, so long as what is made by domestic industry is spent 
in foreign luxury ^ ? 

512. Whether our natural Irish are not partly Spaniards 
and partly Tartars ; and whether they do not bear signa- 
tures of their descent from both these nations, which is 
also confirmed by all their histories ? 

^ Query 212, Part III, follows low in first edition, 

in first edition. * Query 222, Part III, follows 

' Queries- 214, 215, Part III, in first edition, 

follow in first edition. ' Query 226, Part III, follows 

^ Queries 217, 218, Part III, fol- in first edition. 


513. Whether the Tartar progeny is not numerous in 
this land ? And whether there is an idler occupation under 
the sun than to attend flocks and herds of cattle ? 

514. Whether the wisdom of the state should not wrestle 
with this hereditary disposition of our Tartars, and with 
a high hand introduce agriculture ^ ? 

515. Whether once upon a time France did not, by her 
linen alone, draw yearly from Spain about eight millions of 
livres ? 

516. Whether the French have not suffered in their 
linen trade with Spain, by riot making their cloth of due 
breadth ; and whether any other people have suffered, and 
are still likely to suffer, through the same prevarication ' ? 

517. Whether the Spaniards are not rich and lazy, and 
whether they have not a particular inclination and favour 
for the inhabitants of this island ? But whether a punctual 
people do not love punctual dealers ? 

518. Whether about fourteen years ago we had not 
come into a considerable share of the linen trade with 
Spain, and what put a stop to this'? 

519. Whether, if the linen manufacture were carried on 
in the other provinces as well as in the north, the mer- 
chants of Cork, Limerick, and Galway would not soon find 
the way to Spain ? 

520. Whether the woollen manufacture of England is 
not divided into several parts or branches, appropriated to 
particular places, where they are only or principally manu- 
factured ; fine cloths in Somersetshire, coarse in York- 
shire, long ells at Exeter, saies* at Sudbury, crapes at 
Norwich, linseys at Kendal, blankets at Witney, and so 

521. Whether the united skill, industry, and emulation 
of many together on the same work be not the way to 
advance it ? And whether it had been otherwise possible 
for England to have carried on her woollen manufacture 
to so great perfection ? 

* Query 230, Part III, follows this respect.] — Author. 

in first edition. ^ Query 235, Part III, follows in 

^ [Things, we hear, are in a first edition, 

way of being mended with us in * * saies/ i. e. serges. 


522. Whether it would not on many accounts be right if 
we observed the same course with respect to our linen 
manufacture ; and that diapers were made in one town or 
district, damasks in another, sheeting in a third, fine wear- 
ing linen in a fourth, coarse in a fifth, in another cambrics, 
in another thread and stockings, in others stamped linen, 
or striped linen, or tickings, or dyed linens, of which last 
kinds there is so great a consumption among the seafaring 
men of all nations ? 

523. Whether it may not be worth while to inform our- 
selves of the different sorts of linen which are in request 
among different people ? 

524. Whether we do not yearly consume of French 
wines about a thousand tuns more than either Sweden or 
Denmark, and yet whether those nations pay ready money 
as we do ^ ? 

525. Whether it be not a custom for some thousands of 
Frenchmen to go about the beginning of March into Spain, 
and having tilled the lands and gathered the harvest of 
Spain, to return home with money in their pockets about 
the end of November ? 

526. Whether of late years our Irish labourers do not 
carry on the same business in England, to the great dis- 
content of many there ? But whether we have not much 
more reason than the people of England to be displeased 
at this commerce ? 

527. Whether, notwithstanding the cash, supposed to 
be brought into it, any nation is, in truth, a gainer by such 
traffic ? 

528. Whether the industry of our people employed in 
foreign lands, while our own are left uncultivated, be not 
a great loss to the country ? 

529. Whether it would not be much better for us, if, 
instead of sending our men abroad, we could draw men 
from the neighbouring countries to cultivate our own ? 

530. Whether, nevertheless, we are not apt to think 
the money imported by our labourers to be so much clear 
gains to this country ; but whether a little reflexion and 
a little political arithmetic may not shew us our mistake ? 

531. Whether our prejudices about gold and silver are 

* Query 242, Part III, follows in first edition. 


not very apt to infect or misguide our judgments and 
reasonings about the public weal? 

532. Whether it be not a good rule whereby to judge of 
the trade of any city, and its usefulness, to observe whether 
there is a circulation through the extremities, and whether 
the people round about are busy and warm ? 

533' Whether we had not, some years since, a manufac- 
ture of hats at Athlone, and of earthenware at Arklow, and 
what became of those manufactures ? 

534. Why we do not make tiles of our own, for flooring 
and roofing, rather than bring them from Holland ? 

535. What manufactures are there in France and Venice 
of gilt-leather, how cheap and how splendid a furniture ? 

536. Whether we may not, for the same use, manufac- 
ture divers things at home of more beauty and variety 
than wainscot, which is imported at such expense from 
Norway ? 

537. Whether the use and the fashion will not soon 
make a manufacture? 

538. Whether, if our gentry lised to drink mead and 
cider, we should not soon have those liquors in the utmost 
perfection and plenty ? 

539. Whether it be not wonderful that with such 
pastures, and so many black cattle, we do not find our- 
selves in cheese? 

540. Whether great profits may not be made by 
fisheries ; but whether those of our Irish who live by 
that business do not contrive to be drunk and unemployed 
one-half of the year ? 

541. Whether it be not folly to think an inward com- 
merce cannot enrich a state, because it doth not increase 
its quantity of gold and silver ? And whether it is possible 
a cojLintry should not thrive, while wants are supplied, and 
business goes on ? 

542. Whether plenty of all the necessaries and comforts 
of life be not real wealth ? 

543. Whether Lyons, by the advantage of her midland 
situation and the rivers Rhone and Saone, be not a great 
magazine or mart for inward commerce ? And whether 
she doth not maintain a constant trade with most parts of 
France ; with Provence for oils and dried fruits, for wines 
and cloth with Languedoc, for stuffs with Champaign, for 


linen with Picardy, Normandy, and Bretagne, for corn 
with Burgundy? 

544. Whether she doth not receive and utter all those 
commodities, and raise a profit from the distribution there- 
of, as well as of her own manufactures, throughout the 
kingdom of France? 

545. Whether the charge of making good roads and 
navigable rivers across the country would not be really 
repaid by an inward commerce? 

546. Whether, as our trade and manufactures increased, 
magazines should not be established in proper places, 
fitted by their situation, near great roads and navigable 
rivers, lakes, or canals, for the ready reception and dis- 
tribution of all sorts of commodities from and to the 
several parts of the kingdom ; and whether the town of 
Athlone, for instance, may not be fitly situated for such 
a magazine, or centre of domestic commerce ? 

547. Whether an inward trade would not cause industry 
to flourish, and multiply the circulation of our coin, and 
whether this may not do as well as multiplying the coin 

548. Whether the benefits of a domestic commerce are 
sufficiently understood and attended to ; and whether the 
cause thereof be not the prejudiced and narrow way of 
thinking about gold and silver ? 

549. Whether there be any other more easy and un- 
envied method of increasing the wealth of a people ? 

550. Whether we of this island are not from our peculiar 
circumstances determined to this very commerce above any 
other, from the number of necessaries and good things 
that we possess within ourselves, from the extent and 
variety of our soil, from the navigable rivers and good 
roads which we have or may have, at a less expense than 
any people in Europe, from our great plenty of materials 
for manufactures, and particularly from the restraints we 
lie under with regard to our foreign trade * ? 

551. Whether annual inventories should not be pub- 
lished of the fairs throughout the kingdom, in order to 
judge of the growth of its commerce ? 

552. Whether there be not every year more cash 

^ Queries 269, 270, Part III, follow in first edition. 


circulated at the card-tables of Dublin than at all the 
fairs of Ireland ? 

553. Whether the wealth of a country will not bear pro- 
portion to the skill and industry of its inhabitants ? 

554. Whether foreign imports that tend to promote 
industry should not be encouraged, and such as have 
a tendency to promote luxury should not be discouraged ? 

555. Whether the annual balance of trade between Italy 
and Lyons be not about four millions in favour of the 
former, and yet, whether Lyons be not a gainer by this 
trade ? 

556. Whether the general rule, of determining the 
profit of a commerce by its balance, doth not, like other 
general rules, admit of exceptions ? 

557. Whether it would not be a monstrous folly to 
import nothing but gojd and silver, supposing we might 
do it, from every foreign part to which we trade? Aiid 
yet, whether some men may not think this foolish circum- 
stance a very happy one ? 

558. But whether we do not all see the ridicule of the 
Mogul's subjects, who take from us nothing but our silver, 
and bury it under ground, in order to make sure thereof 
against the resurrection ? 

559. Whether he must not be a wrongheaded patriot 
or politician, whose ultimate view was drawing money into 
a country, and keeping it there ? 

560. Whether it be not evident that not gold but in- 
dustry causeth a country to flourish ? 

561. Whether it would not be a silly project in any 
nation to hope to grow rich by prohibiting the exportation 
of gold and silver ? 

562. Whether there can be a greater mistake in politics 
than to measure the wealth of the nation by its gold and 
silver ? 

563. Whether gold and silver be not a drug, where they 
do not promote industry ? Whether they be not even the 
bane and undoing of an idle people ? 

564. Whether gold will not cause either industry or vice 
to flourish ? And whether a country, where it flowed in 
without labour, must not be wretched and dissolute like 
an island inhabited by Buccaneers ? 

565. Whether arts and virtue are not likely to thrive. 


where money is made a means to industry ? But whether 
money without this would be a blessing to any people * ? 

566. Whether keeping cash at home, or sending it 
abroad, just as it most ser\'es to promote industry, be not 
the real interest of every nation ? 

567. Whether commodities of all kinds do not naturally 
flow where there is the greatest demand ? Whether the 
greatest demand for a thing be not where it is of most use ? 
Whether money, like other things, hath not its proper 
use? Whether this use be not to circulate? Whether 
therefore there must not of course be money where 
there is a circulation of industry*; [and where there 
is no industry, whether there will be a demand for 
money • ?] 

568. Whether it is not a great point to know what we 
would be at? And whether whole states, as well as 
private persons, do not often fluctuate for want of this 
knowledge ? 

569. Whether gold may not be compared to Sejanus's 
horse, if we consider its passage through the world, and 
the fate of those nations which have been successively 
possessed thereof*? 

570. Whether means are not so far useful as they 
answer the end ? And whether, in different circumstances, 
the same ends are not obtained by different means ? 

571. If we are a poor nation, abounding with very poor 
people, will it not follow that a far greater proportion of 
our stock should be in the smallest and lowest species 
than would suit with England? 

572. Whether, therefore, it would not be highly expe- 
dient, if our money were coined of peculiar values, best 
suited to the circumstances and uses of our own country ; 
and whether any other people could take umbrage at 
our consulting our own convenience, in an affair entirely 
domestic, and that lies within ourselves ? 

573. Whether every man doth not know, and hath not 

* Query 286, Part III, follows ^ Query 289, Part III, follows 

in first edition. in first edition. 

^ Query 567 ended here in second * Query 292, Part III, follows 

edition. in first edition. 


long known, that the want of a mint causeth many other 
wants in this kingdom ? 

574. What harm did England sustain about three cen- 
turies ago, when silver was coined in this kingdom ? 

575. What harm was it to Spain that her provinces of 
Naples and Sicily had all along mints of their own ^? 

576. Whether it may not be presumed that our not 
having a privilege, which every other kingdom in the 
world enjoys, be not owing to our own want of diligence 
and unanimity in soliciting for it ' ? 

577. Whether it be not the interest of England that we 
should cultivate a domestic commerce among ourselves? 
And whether it could give them any possible jealousy, if 
our small sum of cash was contrived to go a little farther, 
if there was a little more life in our markets, a little more 
buying and selling in our shops, a little better provision 
for the backs and bellies of so many forlorn wretches 
throughout the towns and villages of this island ? 

578. Whether Great Britain ought not to promote the 
prosperity of her Colonies, by all methods consistent with 
her own? And whether the Colonies themselves ought 
to wish or aim at it by others ? 

579. Whether the remotest parts from the metropolis, 
and the lowest of the people, are not to be regarded as 
the extremities and capillaries of the political body ? 

580. Whether, although the capillary vessels are small, yet 
obstructions in them do not produce great chronical diseases? 

581. Whether faculties are not enlarged and improved 
by exercise ? 

582. Whether the sum of the faculties put into act, or, 
in other words, the united action of a whole people, doth 
not constitute the momentum of a state ? 

583. Whether such momentum be not the real stock 
or wealth of a state ; and whether its credit be not pro- 
portional thereunto? 

584. Whether in every wise state the faculties of the 
mind are not most considered '* ? 

585. Whether the momentum of a state doth not imply 

* Query 299, Part III, follows in follow in first edition. 

first edition. ^ Query 311, Part III, follows 

* Queries 301, 30a, Part III, in first edition. 


the whole exertion of its faculties, intellectual and cor- 
poreal ; and whether the latter without the former could 
act in concert ? 

586. Whether the divided force of men, acting singly, 
would not be a rope of sand ? 

587. Whether the particular motions of the members 
of a state, in opposite directions, will not destroy each 
other, and lessen the momentum of the whole ; but whether 
they must not conspire to produce a great effect ? 

588. Whether the ready means to put spirit into this 
state, to fortify and increase its momentum^ would not be 
a national bank, and plenty of small cash ' ? 

589. Whether that which employs and exerts the force 
of a community deserves not to be well considered and 
well understood? 

590. Whether the immediate mover, the blood and 
spirits, be not money, paper, or metal ; and whether the 
soul or will of the community, which is the prime mover 
that governs and directs the whole, be not the legislature ? 

591. Supposing the inhabitants of a country quite sunk 
in sloth, or even fast asleep, whether, upon the gradual 
awakening and exertion, first of the sensitive and loco- 
motive faculties, next of reason and reflexion, then of 
justice and piety, the momentum of such country or state 
would not, m proportion thereunto, become still more and 
more considerable ? 

592. Whether that which in the growth is last attained, 
and is the finishing perfection of a people, be not the first 
thing lost in their declension ? 

593. Whether force be not of great consequence, as it 
is exerted ; and whether great force without wisdom may 
not be a nuisance ? 

594. Whether the force of a child, applied with art, 
may not produce greater effects than that of a giant? 
And whether a small stock in the hands of a wise state 
may not go farther, and produce more considerable effects, 
than immense sums in the hands of a foolish one * ? 

595. Whose fault is it if poor Ireland still continues 
poor ? 

^ Query 316, Part III, follows * Query 323, Part III, follows 

in first edition. in first edition. 






* Gallic cared for none of these things.*— Acts xviii. 17 

First published in 1736 




This Discourse was first published at Dublin in 1736. 
It was reprinted in 1738, 'by George Faulkner/ also at 
Dublin; and afterwards in the Miscellany of 1752. It 
seems to have been called forth particularly by those 
whom it describes as 'that execrable Fraternity of Blas- 
phemers, lately set up within this city of Dublin/ called 
Blasters. A letter from Bishop Forster to the author refers 
to this : — 'Your account of the new Society of Blasters in 
Dublin is shocking : the zeal of all good men for the cause 
of God should rise in proportion to the impiety of these 
horrid blasphemers/ Stock tells that Berkeley expressed 
his sentiments on this subject 'in the [Irish] House of 
Lords, the only time he ever spoke there : the speech was 
received with much applause.' I have not found any 
record of this speech, but the Journals of the House shew 
that, on February 17, 1738, it was ordered 'that the Lords' 
Committees in Religion do meet after the rising of the 
House, and inquire as to the causes of the present notorious 
immorality and profaneness.' In March the Committees 

480 editor's preface to 

reported 'that an uncommon scene of impiety and blas- 
phemy appeared before them; that they have sufficient 
grounds to believe that several loose and disorderly per- 
sons have erected themselves into a Society or Club, under 
the name of Blasters, and have used means to draw into 
this Society several of the youth of this kingdom ; that 
what the practices of this Society are (besides the general 
fame spread through the whole kingdom) appears by the 
examination of several persons taken upon oadi in relation 
to Peter Lens, painter, lately come into this kingdom, 
who professes himself a Blaster. By these examinations 
it appears that Peter Lens professes himself to be a votaiy 
of the devil ; that he hath offered up prayers to him, and 
publicly drank to the devil's health; that he hath at 
several times uttered the most daring and execrable bias- 
phemies against the sacred name and majesty of God ; and 
often made use of such obscene, blasphemous, and before 
unheard-of expressions, as the Lords' Committees think 
they cannot even mention to your Lordships. . The Lords* 
Committees cannot take upon them to assign the imme- 
diate causes of such monstrous impieties ; but they beg 
leave to observe, that of late years there hath appeared 
a greater neglect of religion than was ever before known 
in this kingdom '.' 

There is no proof that this contemptible Society de- 
served the notoriety which these proceedings conferred 
upon it, and the Journals give no later information. ' But, 
apart from this local symptom, there is more impressive 
evidence of prevailing irreligious scepticism in the nation 
about this time. This Discourse appeared almost simul- 
taneously with the Analogy of Bishop Butler, who tells 
his readers, at the outset of his great work, that ' it is 
come, I know not how, to be taken for granted, by many 
persons, that Christianity is not so much as a subject 
of inquiry ; but that it is now at length discovered to be 

* See Life and Letters of Berkeley^ pp. 254-5, note. 



fictitious. And accordingly they treat it as if, in the 
present age, this were an agreed point among all people 
of discernment; and nothing remained but to set it up 
as a principal subject of mirth and ridicule ; as it were 
by way of reprisals for having so long interrupted the 
pleasures of the world.' So Butler wrote in May, 1736. 

Berkeley's Discourse is a defence of National Religion. 
It proceeds upon the ethical theory of civil authority con- 
tained in his Discourse of Passive Obedience. Magistrates, 
he argues, are concerned with the beliefs of society; 
seeing that the actions of men are determined by their 
beliefs ; and especially by what they think and believe about 
God. It is true that such beliefs may, in the case of the 
majority, be unreasoned and received upon trust ; but they 
are not on that account inoperative. In moral questions, 
utility and truth, according to Berkeley, are not to be 
divided ; the good of mankind being the rule and measure 
of moral truth. It is a constitutive principle of society 
that religion should be reverenced. Thought no doubt 
should be free, but 'blasphemy against God is a great 
crime against the State'; and 'an inward sense of the 
supreme majesty of the King of kings is the only thing 
that can beget and preserve a true respect for subordinate 
majesty in all the degrees of power; the first link of